RINGS
by Moondancing Millie
Summary: AU. Jesse has grown up with stories of the mythical Mediators, not believing for one second that they're true. However, one day he finds not only that there are such things as Mediators, but also that he is about to fall head over heels for one. JS
1. Prologue

**Okies, people, this is my new fic. It's a little different to anything I've written before - mainly the era. Stick with it, I have enjoyed writing this immensely. If you don't like it, however, blame Megan. She made me post it.**

_Prologue_

All day, the sunlight had poured in through a narrow crack in the brickwork and pooled golden sunlight on to the cold stone floor. Now, along with my spirits, the sun had started to drop and the pool of light slowly began to disappear, casting me and my prison cell into darkness. I sat alone in the corner, my hands and feet chained together with heavy metal and bade farewell to daylight, knowing that I would never see it again.

The dungeon was by no means silent – the wails of tortured prisoners filled the air, plunging my morale into even darker depths – but I could still hear my thudding heartbeat in my ears… and also the quiet sobs of the prisoner in a neighbouring cell.

I raised my head from where it had been drooping, and looked around for anyone who looked distressed. In the cell to my right, a child lay on the cold floor, and their whole body was shaking violently as they cried. I crouched down and whistled shortly. The child froze, before sitting up and whirling around to see who had called to them.

It was almost impossible to tell the child's gender, but after the way he rubbed his dirty nose with his bare wrist, I took to thinking he was a boy. He looked at me uncertainly through his dirty and scraggly hair before speaking. "What?" he demanded rudely. I beckoned to him to sit closer to the bars so that I could talk to him. He did so, before speaking again. "Who are you?"

"That doesn't matter," I replied. I struggled with my heavy-chained hands and managed to slip a hand into my pocket, and pass him a handkerchief. He took it curiously and dabbed at his face, before examining the embroidery.

"M.D.S," he read aloud. "Are those your initials?"

"Yes," I lied, shifting my weight uneasily.

He handed me back my handkerchief, but I shook my head. It wasn't as if I was going to need it anymore. "What you in here for, sir? Did you murder someone?" His eyes were eager. My face, however, was expressionless.

"You're just a boy," I said. "How could you have done anything worthy of being locked up in a place like this?" The boy turned pink before answering in a quiet, feeble voice.

"I was caught stealing bread for my family," he answered. "They were hungry; I didn't think anyone was going to see me." He began to cry again, his whole body convulsing as large tears fell down his cheeks. I gestured to the handkerchief, but he was too upset to notice. I reached into his cell to help him, but the guard keeping watch scolded me.

"De Silva, get back into your own cell." I moved backwards obediently.

The boy stopped crying and instead looked at me in wonder. "De-"

"It's alright," I said. "You're going to get of here. I've been staying in this town for a while. You won't get hanged, the sheriff never hangs children." The boy sniffed gratefully, and after a while I saw that he grew curious.

"Why _are _you here?" he asked. "You don't seem like a bad man to me." I smiled sadly at the boy, before pushing myself backwards against the brick wall. I leant my head against the cold surface, sighing.

"It's a long story that you don't want to hear."

The boy pressed himself even closer to the bars separating us. "I do want to hear it, sir," he whispered excitedly. "I don't mind that it's a long story." He looked through a crack in his wall at the now dusky sky. "It's evening. We have all night."

I looked at him curiously; I was almost definitely sure that I recognised him. "What's your name?" I asked him. The boy blinked a couple of times before answering. It was almost as if he had forgotten his own name.

"Joe, sir," he answered. "My name is Joe."

I considered this for a moment before continuing.

"Alright, Joe," I said, calmly. I shut my eyes, searching for the first memory. "I suppose it began with the Mediators."

_In particular the one I called Susannah._


	2. Chapter One

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I love this story so much, I'm actually a few chapters ahead. Here's Chapter One, but don't tell my beta! I'll be reposting with whatever she has advised in a couple of days, but for now, here is my version of this chapter. Enjoy!**

_Chapter One_

The village I grew up in was a simple fishing village, not too far from the coast. I had lived there all my life, never straying from the close-knit community where I knew every villager by name. It had never crossed my mind that I might want to leave. I knew that my father needed me on the fields, and in the house, too. As the eldest – and only – son, I was his solitary ally against a horde of females.

The eldest daughter – my younger sister, Marta – was sixteen years old, and sewed better than perhaps _Madre_ herself. She liked to decorate her unadorned dresses with complicated embroidery, and weave wild flowers through her hair. She did not care for the young men in our village – the butcher's boy, the blacksmith's apprentice – but I knew by the looks they tossed her way that they cared for her very much. It was required on more than one occasion for me to stand up and shield her from their leering gazes and catcalls.

The second eldest daughter was Mercedes. At fifteen, she was Marta's opposite, detesting the dresses that were passed down to her. Instead of fashioning daisy-chains in the garden like her older sister, Mercedes preferred to stay inside with _Madre _and help with the cooking – occasionally venturing outside to watch the blacksmith work, watching his actions intently. She wore her blonde – and oddity for our Spanish family – hair cropped like a boy's and often came home with her pink cheeks smeared with mud. Sometimes I thought she was more masculine than me.

My two youngest sisters were twins – Conchita and Marisol. The twins – usually referred as to just that, "The Twins" – were often the source of _Madre_'s stress, running riot through the house and refusing to participate in quiet drawing with chalk or learning to sew with Marta. They were five years old and a nightmare.

And then, of course, there was my dear Josefina. The middle sister, at just eight years old, Josefina was frequently left out of the loop – not quite boyish enough to wrestle with Mercedes in the mud, not quite feminine enough to learn how to crochet from Marta. Usually she sat under the large oak tree, watching _Padre_ and I work on the fields, occasionally lending a hand when our father was too exhausted to protest. She clung to me like a monkey, insisting I was her only friend, and begging me to tell her the fairy tale she had fell asleep to most nights.

"Not now, Josefina." I collected my rusty spade from against the wall of our house and made my way to the open gate. She trotted after me persistently, blinking her large brown eyes at me as I bent down to tighten my shoes. "_Chica_, you know I have to help _Padre_."

"Please, Jesse?" she asked. "Why do you have to work every day? We sell everything we harvest… we hardly ever keep any of our crops."

"That's why I work," I explained, patiently. "So we'll have more to sell, but also more to keep." I stopped, and patted my sister good-naturedly on the head. "Please stop persisting, Josefina. I will tell you the story later."

She stopped at the gate, sticking out her bottom lip morosely. "Goodbye, Jesse," she said, waving forlornly. "It's going to be a long day." I turned around from where I had started to walk again.

"It will soon be evening, _chica_," I called, before joining my father on the fields and digging my spade deep into the uncooperative dirt, coughing as the rising dust got to my lungs.

We worked until the sun was at its highest, and then retreated to the shade of the oak tree, opening the parcels _Madre _had sent us along with. Taking a large bite of the chicken leg she had supplied, I watched my father sit uncomfortably beside me and ponder instead of consuming his own meal.

"You should rest, _Padre_," I said, concernedly. "You are too tired to work at the moment; the sun is too hot." He smiled weakly at me, and obediently opened his parcel.

He sighed, and unravelled his parcel. "You know as well as I do, Jesse, that we are behind with our harvesting. We need to work for as long as we can. Your mother and I need the money." I shook my head.

"No." My voice was firm. "_Madre_ needs you to be healthy. She needs you to eat." He took a bite obediently, and then promptly finished it off, hungrily.

"Sometimes I wonder who the parent is," my father said, with a grin. I returned the smile, before his expression turned more serious. "Is Josefina alright, Jesse?"

"Why ask me?" I questioned. "I'm sure _Madre _would know better than me, or perhaps one of the girls." My father shook his head.

"No, you are her friend," he said. "Josefina doesn't get along well with any of her older sisters. And you know the twins only have time for each other." I nodded.

"She's lonely," I explained. "She asked me to tell her the story this morning, but I refused. I knew there was too much work to be done on the fields." My father smiled sadly.

"Go talk to your sister, Jesse," he said, and I wondered if I'd heard him correctly. He shook my shoulder, urging me to return to the house. "Go on, boy. Go and tell Josefina the story. I know you tell it so well."

I studied my father's expression. "_Padre_, are you sure? I can stay here for another two hours to help, if you need me to. I know that we are behind on the harvest, you told me so yourself, only two minutes ago." But he was adamant.

"No." He pointed towards the house. "Go." I shrugged and grabbed the spade, running back down the dusty path to the wooden gate. I pushed it open and made my way through, making sure to lean the spade up against the wall again before I went inside.

"Josefina?" I called her name as I rinsed my hands in the wash basin my mother had left by the door. "Josefina? I'm back early. Do you want to hear the story or not?" My sister appeared in the doorway, beaming excitedly.

"Do you mean it?" she asked, her eyes shining. I nodded, and she rushed towards me, throwing herself into the air. I caught her, and scooped her into my arms like she was a baby. She rested her head beneath my chin and breathed deeply. "Tell me about the Mediators," she whispered.

I carried her into her room – the room she shared with Mercedes. Marta had the pleasure of sharing with The Twins. "You know the story," I said, as I dropped her onto her bed. Her eyes grew dark with desperation. "You made _Mama _tell you every night before you went to sleep. You must know it better than I do." Her large pink lips shrunk into a pout. "Why do you want to know anyway? The Mediators are dark creatures – you don't want anything to do with them-" She reached up and pressed a cold finger against my lips.

"Ssh," she told me off. "They'll get you if you say anything bad about them." She released my mouth slowly and cautiously.

"I told you that you know the story better than I do," I reminded her. She laughed, and buried her head into my chest. I kissed the top of her head affectionately. "O.K, I'll see what I can remember." Josefina closed her eyes. "There's another world out there," I began, mirroring the exact words of my mother. "One that not everyone can see – one of the deceased, of the spirits. The join between the worlds is an undetectable one…"

"And those can slip through the join are called the Mediators," Josefina whispered religiously. "They can see the spirits, and solve their problems."

"So they say," I corrected her. "I'm not too sure."

"They can," Josefina insisted. "I believe they can."

"O.K, _chica_," I laughed. "They can solve their problems. They travel from town to town, solving the spirits problems, and relieving their townspeople of their dead ancestors." I grimaced at the morbid tale. Josefina, however, was more absorbed than ever.

"And then the village gives the mediators a reward," Josefina recited, breathlessly. "Like gold, or food."

"That's right. It's all rubbish, of course-"

"Ssh!" Josefina repeated, and she struck out her finger again. "Stop it! They'll get you!"

"Yes, yes," I replied, absent-mindedly waving a dismissive hand in the air. "Well, what do you want to do now?" She leapt off my lap and rushed to the other side of the room. "I don't know why you like that story so much; it's hardly an epic novel…" She was making her way towards me again, carrying a metal bucket. She thrust it into my lap and jutted out her lip.

"Hopscotch," she declared, and I looked down into the bucket to see several colours of chalk. "Can you draw one for me?" I sighed.

"I can try," I replied truthfully. "Though you know that this time, _Madre _is definitely the one to ask."

* * *

I awoke early the next morning, before the sun had properly risen. Nobody else in my house was awake yet – it was Sunday, the day my father rested for a few more hours in the morning, on my mother's command – and I crept outside, stretching at the gate.

Despite it being the day of rest, the town was humming. Chickens clucked in the front yards, and the path through the village leading past my house was busy with people scurrying back and forth. There was a buzz of chatter as I made my way to the butcher's; a fresh wave of gossip had evidently made its way to the town. I tried to catch words as I passed – as an avid gossiper, Marta always begged me for the latest scoop as I went out every morning – but I could get none. I pushed the door to the butcher's and collected coins from the purse _Madre_ had left out for me for the week's meat, ready to hand them over.

"Hello there, young Jesse," said the butcher, looking up from where he had been working. I bowed my head respectfully in acknowledgement. "How is your father doing?"

"He is fine, thank-you sir," I replied. The butcher smiled.

"What can I do for you?"

"I'm here to collect the week's meat, please." I made an effort to be polite – if I was anything else then I was sure to receive a scolding from my mother. He dealt me the meat and I pressed the coins into his palm. He nodded his head, and I made to leave, even opening the door slightly, before he stopped me with just four words.

"They're here, you know."

I turned around. "Who are?" I asked. The butcher kept his head down, as he diced the meat before him.

"The Mediators. They've set up camp in a nearby field. They came last night – it's the talk of the town." My mouth dropped. The mythical Mediators – the Mediators I'd taken to be nothing more than a silly story – were _here? _In my town? I found this almost impossible to believe. Nothing ever happened here. It was a sleepy village, and it was fiercely determined to stay that way. Nobody here would ever anticipate such visitors.

I left without another word, rushing back to the house so that I could wake Josefina. She would be so excited. I pictured her shining face as I ran, my heart in my mouth.

I dropped the meat I had collected onto the table that sat in the middle of our main room, before making my way quietly to her room, careful not to disturb Mercedes, who slept soundly beside her. I shook her gently, lowering my breathless voice to a whisper.

"Josefina," I said. "Josefina, wake up. I have a surprise for you."

She roused slowly, groaning groggily as she sat up. She frowned confusedly when she saw me. "Jesse?" she asked loudly, and I shushed her hurriedly, glancing at Mercedes, who merely yawned and rolled over. "What are you doing here?"

I went to tell her all about the Mediators' arrival, but at the last second changed my mind. I shook my head, and stood up from where I had been sitting on her bed. "Never mind, _querida_. Go back to sleep."

I realised now that it had been foolish even to consider telling her. I realised now that she would have demanded to visit their camp immediately, and who knew what awaited her there? Whilst the story had enchanted her, it had spooked me, and now the initial excitement of hearing the story was true had worn off, worries started to creep into my mind.

_No,_ I told myself. _I wouldn't tell her_._ She didn't need to know_.

I banned both Mercedes and Marta from saying anything they had heard when they were out in the town aloud, and I tried my best to keep Josefina indoors, or limit her just to the field my father and I worked on. I learned from the blacksmith's apprentice – a boy around my age, who liked to gossip perhaps more than Marta – that the Mediators would just be staying the one week, before moving on.

It was the seventh day of the week – the following Sunday – that my seemingly good luck suddenly ran out. Josefina came rushing into the kitchen – a lapse of concentration on my part had allowed her outside – declaring that she had seen tents in a neighbouring field. Marta, who was sat at the table opposite me, groaned.

"You're going to have to tell her, Jesse," she said, and Josefina glanced suspiciously at her.

"Tell me what?" she asked, innocently. I pulled a face and quickly weighed up my options, before sighing and surrendering.

"The Mediators," I replied. "They're real, and they're here. Those tents in that field belong to them." Unsurprisingly, my sister burst into excited peals of delight. "But please, Josefina…" I trailed off desperately. "Stay away from them." Her ecstatic expression disappeared.

"Why?" she demanded. "Why can't I see them, Jesse?" I looked at Marta for support, but she offered none. Josefina stood, with her arms crossed, her young face marred with a frown.

"…because it's unsafe," I answered. "You don't know anything about the Mediators, _chica. _You don't know if they are dangerous-" Josefina became impertinent.

"You don't know if they're not," she retorted impudently. "Please, Jesse. You'll be there to protect me, won't you? And they probably won't be here for much longer, anyway." I sighed.

"That's true," I replied. "Today's their last day here." Josefina started tugging at the bottom of my tunic urgently.

"Please, Jesse!" Her eyes were wide now as she begged. "Please? Before they move on and go somewhere else?" I crouched down to her level.

"Fine." I had surrendered.

Josefina gave a triumphant yell and raced out of the house at top speed, heading straight for the field. My stomach lurched, and I was upright and chasing after her within seconds. "Josefina!" I barked, my heart in my mouth.

I lost sight of her in the crowd, but I knew which direction she was heading, and that scared me. Anything could be awaiting her, and I could never forgive myself if something happened.

I pushed myself faster, my feet kicking dust into the air. "Josefina!" I yelled again, pushing people out of my way. I had no time to be polite. "Josefina!" I attracted many strange looks as I weaved through the crowd, but I didn't care. She was surely in the field by now… My stomach flipped at the thought.

As I reached the field, the large wooden gate had already been undone, and I slipped the gap just as my sister had. Before me stood a grand wagon, and the curtain draped across the entrance was flailing in the light breeze. I took a deep breath, and started to climb, knowing almost definitely that she would be what I would find once I got inside.

"Josefina-" I began, ready to scold her, but instead I was met with an empty interior. Glancing vaguely at the décor – it seemed to be the sleeping quarters of a young girl, shown by the feminine quilt thrown across the mattress and the occasional splash of pink and lace – I was sure more than ever that this would have been Josefina's first stop.

I turned to leave again – hop down from the wagon and rush to find my still missing sister – but before I could, my plans were interrupted as the wagon gave a huge jolt.

It was moving.

"Wait!" I cried, pulling back the curtain. The wagon behind the one I was on was close behind me, and the horses that drew it even closer – it was impossible for me to jump without getting hurt.

I spotted Josefina over by the gate I had passed through only minutes ago, and she saw me too. "Jesse!" she yelled, chasing after the wagons. "Jesse, where are you going?" Her little legs carried her as fast as they could, but she was not quick enough.

The wagons turned a corner and she was out of sight. I stepped backwards behind the curtain again, and sank to the floor in despair.

This was _not _good.


	3. Chapter Two

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I hope that everyone is still reviewing, as I love writing this so much. It's my new baby...**

**This chapter is a lot shorter than the previous one, which I didn't realise. Still, at least it won't scare off those people who hate long chapters, right?**

_Chapter Two_

I looked for another way out – a door on the side, away from the horses, perhaps – but I couldn't find anything. It seemed like I was just going to have to sit and wait for the next stop. The next stop would be when I would sneak off, and find my way back to my town and my family.

The wagon kept on moving. Time crawled past slowly, every second that passed seeming like a year. I wasn't sure how far I'd travelled, exactly, or how much time had gone by – though it seemed like decades. Finally, the wagon pulled to a gentle stop, and I stood up, my legs a little numb from staying stationary for so long.

I moved towards the end of the wagon, ready to pull back the curtain and leap down, running as fast as I could in the opposite direction to where the Mediators were heading. But halfway to the curtain a nearby noise made me freeze.

Somebody was coming.

It was too late to move. I stood still in shock as the visitor showed themselves. To my surprise, it was a girl – obviously the occupant of this wagon. She gasped at the sight of me, and dropped the wooden tankard that she had been holding to the floor. It landed with a hard _thunk_, echoing in the silence.

"Who are you?" she demanded, ignoring the tankard.

She was pretty – prettier than any of the girls back home. She wore her chestnut brown hair in curls past her shoulders, and apart from a thick, red, woollen scarf draped around her neck wore plain, brown clothing. Her cheeks were pink from the wind, and around her wrist she wore a braided piece of string as a bracelet.

"Please don't shout-" I started to beg, but then we both tensed as we heard another visitor. She shooed me behind the crates at the front of the wagon, before turning around – her long, modest skirt swishing as she did so – and facing the person who had just climbed up.

"Hello, Paul," she said, pleasantly. I realised now how sweet her voice was, almost musical. The boy – I would guess he was around my age – did not smile at her, the way I would have. Instead, he placed a protective yet intrusive hand on her hip and frowned.

"I thought I heard voices," he said, suspiciously. I held my breath.

The girl was quick-thinking, however. "I was singing," she replied, quickly. "…to myself." She turned Paul to face the curtain, which was revealing the blue sky outside as it flapped about in the breeze. "It's such a lovely day," she continued. "Don't you want to sing, too?"

"No." His tone was abrupt. He turned again to face her and took her in his arms, stretching a hand around her face and pushing her head up to meet his lips. He kissed her hungrily, I saw through the crates, and his tanned fingers ran through her hair as his mouth moved along her jaw-line. I felt an unfamiliar twang in the pit of my stomach, though I had no idea why. I had only just met the girl, and though she was beautiful, she was by no means mine.

Her hands rested tentatively by her sides, before she pushed Paul away slowly. They broke apart, and he grinned, satisfied. "We're moving again in five minutes," he declared, before leaving. The girl checked that he was gone, before coming to crouch the other side of the crates.

"The coast is clear," she whispered. "But for God's sake, you do not want Paul finding you if you're not meant to be here." She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you here, anyway?" She paused thoughtfully. "Are you… are you _spying _on us?"

I stood up, shaking my head. "Of course not," I answered. "It's all a mistake, being here." She cocked her head to the side in misunderstanding, and so I elaborated. "My sister," I explained. "She liked to hear the story of The Mediators – it was her bedtime story. And then one day she found out that you had visited my town, and longed to see your camp. I thought she was in this wagon, and by the time I found out that she wasn't, it had started to move."

"Do you believe it?" she asked me.

"My story?" I retorted. "Of course, it's all true."

She shook her head gently. "No, no," she corrected me. "Our story. The story of The Mediators." I pondered.

"I didn't think so," I replied. "I was always too sensible for that." She smiled, far from being offended. I returned the grin nervously.

"Are you going to curse me for saying that?" I questioned, worriedly. She laughed, and my smile faded into a look of admiration. If I had thought that her voice was beautiful, then her laugh was captivating; enchanting.

"We are not witches," she quipped. "Just Mediators." She looked at me thoughtfully. "What is your name?"

"Jesse," I answered. "Jesse De Silva." She nodded, before giving me her own.

"I'm Suze," she said. "Short for Susannah." She had answered the question before it had even sprung to my lips. I bowed my head.

"It's pretty," I admitted, bashfully. She blushed – her cheeks turning a slightly darker shade than their previous pink. "Can - can you really see ghosts?"

"Of course," she replied, eagerly. "I've been seeing them since before I could remember." She sat demurely on her bed, deep in thought. "I think the first time I saw a ghost, I was two years old. It was just standing there, in the kitchen. Nobody else could see it – or at least, nobody let on that they could. It just stood there, watching me eat whilst I watched it in awe. But before I could swallow and say anything back – not that my reply would have been coherent, I was two years old – it disappeared. It was like it had never been there in the first place." She beckoned me over to the bed, but I shook my head. I did not even find it appropriate to sit on my _sister's _bed. "My parents died just after I was born," she continued. "I was adopted by the local priest, Father Dominic, and the nuns. As I got older, I realised I could see all ghosts. Through confession, Father Dominic told me he could see them too, and that I wasn't alone. We were called mediators, he told me, and there were more than just him and me."

"Why did you decide to start travelling?" I was curious.

"Father Dominic was in love with a ghost," she elucidated. "Her name was Rose, I think. One day, she just disappeared. Father Dom told me she had moved on, the way all ghosts were meant to – it was what we were meant to help them do – but his heart was broken. I think a tiny selfish piece of him wanted her to always be around." She smiled sadly. "After that, Father Dom said he needed to leave. I jumped at the chance to leave with him, of course. I couldn't bear to be around the nuns. He agreed to take me with him, and we travelled to the closest town, where we met more ghosts. We mediated them, and then decided to do the same in the next town, and the next…" She trailed off, making a continuing motion with her hands. "A couple of years later I met Paul. He was the one who decided we should get gold or food for our deeds." She pursed her lips. "Father Dominic was too frail to argue."

I watched her pretty face shrink into sadness – just for a second, but then she blinked and it was as if nothing had happened. Her features were animated again, and her bright eyes continued to watch me cautiously, despite me telling her why I was there.

"Do you miss your parents?" I asked, after a while. She rubbed her head thoughtfully, before shaking her head gently. "You don't?"

"No," she replied, softly. She stood, smoothing her skirt with her fingertips as she did so. "I don't remember them. How could I?" I nodded slightly, not quite understanding. My own parents had survived throughout my life so far.

There was an awkward silence as I thought of home, and what _Madre _and _Padre _would make of my disappearance. Would Josefina tell them what happened? Would they come looking for me? It was sure to be the town's freshest topic of gossip.

The wagon gave a lurch, before starting to move again, and I tensed, looking frantically at Susannah. "What's wrong?" she asked me, with genuine concern in her tone. I rubbed my forehead in frustration.

"I was meant to get off at the first stop, and find my way home," I explained, sitting down again and sighing. "I guess I'll just have to wait until the next stop." She shook her pretty head.

"No," she said. "We'll be far too far away from your town by then; you'll almost definitely never find your way home again." She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll be able to convince Paul to return there again soon."

"Thank-you," I replied. "But what should I do in the meantime? I can't hide in your wagon forever; I am bound to get caught." Susannah considered this.

"You shall have to pretend that you are a mediator too," she said. "And that you decided to join us to learn more about your talent."

"Will it work?" I didn't want to cross the boy Paul. I didn't trust him already.

Susannah shrugged.

"I guess we'll soon find out."


	4. Chapter Three

**Sorry for the slight delay in updating - exams are ruling my life at the moment. I hope everybody is still reading, as I love writing this with a passion. Warning - cliffhanger for you at the end! Please review...**

_Chapter Three_

I stirred; my body stiff from the slumber I had slipped into after endless hours on the wagon. Before I moved to shift myself from rigidity, however, I heard a small groan below my ear – Susannah, the beautiful, enchanting girl I had met, was sleeping peacefully on my shoulder. I smiled, resisting the overwhelming urge to reach out and stroke her hair; to weave my fingers through the chestnut waves that cascaded down my shirt as she slept.

The wagon continued to rumble on, and Susannah's peaceful state remained undisturbed despite the large rocks that jostled the two of us into uncomfortable positions. I was glad she was sleeping, so that she could not see the blushes that swept across my bashful face.

Eventually, however, the perfect journey came to a close, and I was forced to wake her. I shook her shoulder gently, and she mumbled something incoherent, before burying her face drowsily further into my armpit. It took most of my willpower to carefully push her away.

However, whilst I was in the process of doing so, the wood outside creaked as somebody was climbing aboard. I was not quick enough to release her; my palm was still cradling her face as Paul Slater appeared.

"Who are you?"

His voice was thunderous; the opposite of Susannah's inquisitive tone as she had asked the same question. The volume jolted Susannah awake, and she clutched me instinctively in fear before she realised who was standing before us.

"Paul," she said, her voice not displaying any of the apprehension my own voice would have evidently given away if I had been in her shoes. "This is Jesse – he's a… a mediator. I found him in the last town, and invited him to spend some time with us."

Paul looked unconvinced. "How did you know what a mediator was?" he asked, suspiciously, and my heart flipped nervously.

"The stories," I answered, truthfully. "I'd always heard the stories in my town of the Mediators." I held my breath, hoping my tentative excuse would suffice. He turned his angry face to Susannah and I exhaled, relieved.

"Suze," he grunted. "Dom needs help unloading the horses." Susannah nodded and rose delicately, smoothing her skirt as she passed Paul quickly. She shot me a swift smile before disappearing behind the curtain. I stood up too, making sure at all times to face Paul expressionlessly. He said nothing as I straightened, but as I moved to make my way out of the wagon he seized me by the material of my tunic and threw me against the wall, bringing his face close to mine so that I could count the freckles on his nose.

"You're in for now," he snarled, baring his teeth like a predator. "But if you cause any trouble for us - you're out, no second chances." I nodded, eager for him to release me. Just as it seemed Paul was contemplating letting me go, his grip on my shirt got tighter, and his snarl lowered to a hiss. "And stay away from Susannah. She's mine."

It confirmed what I had already suspected; but something in the way Susannah acted around Paul told me that she hadn't committed herself to being a belonging of his, like a handy penknife, or a treasured copper ring. I warned my somersaulting heart against the fresh hope that the thought gave me, but I couldn't help feeling just a little optimistic.

Paul liberated my shirt and stalked out of the wagon; I heard a heavy _thud _as he hit the gravel outside. I caught my breath, taking large gulpfuls of air, before readjusting my dishevelled appearance and making my way outside, careful to make sure that Paul was not close by as I hopped down from the wagon.

"My boy."

Before I'd even hit the ground, I heard an unfamiliar voice address me. I whirled around defensively to find a frail old man smiling kindly at me; his description informing me that he must be Father Dominic, the man Susannah had referred to earlier. The tense muscles in my neck relaxed, and I found myself smiling back at him.

"You must be Father Dominic," I replied, offering my hand politely – simple manners my mother had taught me in my childhood. He took it, and I grimaced automatically at his cold touch. He glanced at me apologetically.

"And you must be the new boy," he said. He kept his grip on my hand, and pulled me closer so that he could whisper in my ear. "The boy who is pretending he has the gift we possess."

My face flushed and I dropped his hand in shock. "F-Father…" I began, but the old man shook his head, his eyes half-closed so that he conveyed all the wisdom his words were about to depart.

"Your secret is safe, boy," he promised me, and the sincerity in his voice rang clear; I trusted him instantly. There was none of the antagonism that I had felt oozing from Paul, and I was relieved that there was somebody besides Susannah who I could be comfortable around.

My brow furrowed as a niggling thought entered my mind. "Father," I said, what religious conscience I had acquired during my weekly visits to church on Sunday mornings beginning to take form. "Will God forgive me for lying?" Father Dominic smiled.

"Of course, boy," he answered. "God will forgive you anything."

My lips parted; ready to reply, before I felt a warm hand in mine. I turned my head slightly to see Susannah's smiling face level with my shoulder. I squeezed her hand, grateful of the friendship that it symbolized.

"I'm sorry about Paul," Susannah whispered in my ear, as Father Dominic turned to attend to the distressed horses. "He… is a little protective of me, I suppose." I shook my head, dismissively.

"Is there anything I'm able to help with?"

There was a light drizzle in the air as I helped the Mediators unload their belongings from the wagon. Susannah introduced me to her peers, and I smiled nervously, though after all the exchanges were done I could not match one name to a curious face. The drizzle progressed to a heavy shower once we had finished, and I wondered how they could pitch tents in such weather conditions. It appeared, however, that Paul had all the answers, as the Mediators' attentions suddenly turned to the wagon he was standing by, and all talking stopped.

"We shall find an inn," he declared, and the chatter that followed told me that it was thought a good idea. "The closest one that will have us all." There was no debate, the Mediators got to work immediately, readjusting the horses' saddles and collecting the tents and equipment back into the wagons. Amongst the bustle, I scanned the crowd for Susannah. I found her standing by the wagon we had met in; her wagon.

"Will you be sleeping in your wagon, or spending the night in the inn?" I asked her, genuinely interested. She turned to face the wagon, watching the curtain flap about in the breeze.

"I'll be sleeping here," she informed me, and I was disappointed, and searched desperately for an excuse for her to stay in the inn, so that I could spend more time with her the evening that was going to follow.

"But you might get…" I hesitated. "…_damp_, sleeping in the wagon." She laughed at my feeble excuse, and my insides trembled again at the musical sound.

"Alright then," she surrendered. "I'll stay in the inn, if you insist." I grinned, jubilant, and she rewarded me with a dazzling smile. "Enjoying your time with the Mediators so far?"

"You mean besides my experience with Paul?" I asked, and she nodded. "Of course, it's intriguing. I shall have many stories to tell my sister when I return." My statement made me feel two things simultaneously: a pang of home-sickness, a longing for my mother's home-cooked meal, and the company of my family, but also an unsettling sense of disappointment that I would one day be separated from the alluring girl who stood before me.

We remained in silence for the duration of our journey in search of an inn – the first words either of us spoke were mere exclamations at the sight of the first inn, named _The Poison Ivy Inn_. The name was unnerving, but Paul insisted we stayed here, as the night was drawing in. As the wagons came to a halt outside the wooden structure, two figures came outside to welcome their customers. I saw as they came closer that they were a man and a woman, and their close proximity told me they were married.

"I am Felix Diego," the man – who bore an unfortunate moustache – introduced himself, before gesturing to his wife, who stood silently beside him. "And this is my wife, Maria." I glanced distractedly at Maria, and she stared back, her onyx eyes glittering dangerously. "Come inside."

I reached instinctively for Susannah's hand, and we walked together to a table, sitting down and regarding the warm and dry inn with mixed feelings. I had never stayed in an inn before, but the feeling I received was that the public house that was supposed to be respectable appeared more like a parlour; a cat house for ladies of the night. The red décor and oil lamps cast a seductive glow across the ground floor.

Susannah ordered us two ales before I could speak, and I wondered naively what ale tasted like. At home I had only ever drunk water from the stream with my sisters, and not even my father had ever had much taste for alcohol, being a religious man. Maria set the two tankards down on the wooden table near my elbow, and Susannah reached across for hers, her knee knocking with mine and sending a spark of electricity down my thigh. My fingers – which were mid-air, halfway to reaching for my tankard – trembled.

As I sipped – the liquid that greeted my taste buds was delicious – I surveyed the bar, watching as the Mediators chattered amiably. Father Dominic refrained from drinking, and rather chewed a leg of meat with panache. I spied Paul over by Maria – who was not with her husband – and the two appeared to be in deep conversation. I dismissed it, deciding that perhaps Paul had resided in this inn before now.

Later into the evening, Paul ordered us all to retire to bed – though I had no idea of the exact time. I bade Susannah a good night, watching wistfully as she climbed the opposite staircase, before climbing my own. I patrolled the corridor, searching for the room that I had been allocated to myself, and pushed the door open to find it was narrow, yet cosy. I shut the door, and pulled off my shirt, suddenly tired.

Yet no sooner had I removed my shirt, that I heard a knock on the door. My heart leapt excitedly and I flew to answer it – could it be Susannah? My morals cried out for me to ignore the call, but I couldn't, and yanked to the door open, ready to greet her.

But it was not Susannah. Instead, it was Maria Diego, the inn-keeper's wife. She stood with her hands on her hips and a suggestive expression upon her features. She smiled, her face distinctively feline.

"Hello," she said. "I thought I'd come and introduce myself."


	5. Chapter Four

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I really love writing this, and so I hope that everyone still loves to read it.**

**For Megan. I changed my mind again. I bet you spot some Curley's wife in here somewhere.**

_Chapter Four_

"Well?" Maria fidgeted with the hem of her skirt flirtatiously as she lingered in my doorway. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

I stood dumb in the doorway. Growing up in a small town where girls my age were scarce, I was unused to female attention of the seductive kind. I was unsure as to how to react – even though I knew that as a married woman, it was wrong for Maria to be there standing before me.

"Quick!" Maria hissed, suddenly. "It's my husband!" She forced her way past me, knocking me to the wooden floor. I lay still, winded and watched as she slammed the door shut with force. Maria leant against the door, her large chest rising and falling as she panted. I couldn't help but notice that her attire was far more suggestive than Susannah's – instead of a modest tunic, she wore a red bodice that accentuated her chest, and a large ruby dangled dangerously down into her cleavage. Her ebony hair was rolled into little ringlets, and her plump lips were painted red. Her gaze on me was smouldering.

"Maria?" I asked, eventually gathering the energy to sit up again. "What are you doing here?" She grinned, her breathing slowing slightly.

"I'm looking for my husband," she teased, before erupting into a fit of giggles. I frowned, confusedly.

"Wasn't he just outside?"

Maria sighed. "Simple boy," she muttered, and my brow puckered as I grew offended. Maria waltzed across the room and settled on my bed against the wall. She tilted her head back so that her neck was elongated. "I'm just looking for some fun." She looked heavy-lidded, and her breath was ragged.

I didn't understand. I got to my feet cautiously and continued to stare until Maria gestured to the space beside her on the bed. I didn't take it, and instead perched on her other side, nearer to the posts. I reached for the pack of cards that sat on the chest of drawers behind me, and offered them to Maria. "Do you want to play cards?" It was the only thing I could think of – it was a game I had played with my sisters, the only girls besides Susannah I had ever spent time alone with.

Maria rolled her eyes, and leant closer to me, brushing the packet from my grasp. She continued to get closer, until her claret-coloured lips were on mine. I tore myself away, horrified. Her previously seductive face grew angry.

"Why don't you want me?" she demanded, her cheeks becoming pink. "It's so lonely living here. You think I like having a husband who cares more about money and guests than he does about you?" I hesitated – her act seemed far too extravagant to be real – but succumbed to pity and moved closer to her.

"Do you have a handkerchief?" I asked, for large tears were now beginning to roll down her cheeks. She nodded, and reached inside her bodice. I politely looked away, but as soon as I did she produced a clean white handkerchief, with flowery embroidery. "MDS," I read aloud, and she nodded again.

"This handkerchief was made for me before I married Felix," she explained. She pressed the handkerchief into my hand. "I'm exhausted," she said, breathlessly. "Could you mop my tears for me?" I stared at the handkerchief in my hand for a moment before looking into her deep brown eyes. They were large and sorrowful – they reminded me of how Josefina would look when she was begging for something. I sighed, and raised the cloth to her cheeks.

"I just wish I had someone who cares for me," Maria whimpered, laying her head on my shoulder. "Somebody who spent time with me out of choice." She trembled as another round of tears fell down her face. "I think Felix just married me for my father's money – so that he could set up this inn. And he married me because I was my beautiful – like I was some trophy he could set in a cabinet." I continued to dab at her moist skin, but I wasn't really listening to her words.

Instead, my mind was on Susannah. I wondered how many doors away she was.

Whether or not she was sleeping.

"I just wish I had someone who cares for me," Maria repeated, and a glance in her direction told me she had lifted her head from my shoulder now. Her eyes – still brimming with tears – were wider than ever. "If only just for one night." Her hand closed over mine – the one that held the handkerchief. I lifted my gaze, and met her eyes.

A very large mistake.

"One kiss." Her voice was a whisper; a light breeze on my upper lip. She was closer now; the closest she had ever been. Perhaps even closer than when she was kissing me. I remained frozen to the spot… something about the closeness between us kept me still. Maria edged one millimetre closer, and I closed my eyes, ready for the feeling of our lips meeting this time.

This time, when she kissed me, she was not Maria. No, when my eyes were closed, she was Susannah. The finger that grazed my chin tenderly belonged to Susannah, and the hair my hands were tangled it was Susannah's. Susannah wasn't with Paul, she loved me and here she was kissing me…

"Get away from my wife!"

My eyes wrenched themselves open, and the Susannah in my arms was not Susannah, she was Maria. And in the doorway stood Felix Diego, with a rifle in hand. I released Maria immediately, throwing myself to the floor in an attempt to dodge the bullet shot my way. Maria's piercing shriek filled the air as another shot narrowly missed me. I didn't know what she feared – the end of my life, or the black mark on her husband's moral record: my murder.

But I wasn't about to find out.

I threw myself between Diego's legs, and his surprise caused the rifle he held to fall to the floor aimed dangerously between my own legs. I crawled hurriedly along the hard, wooden floor out into the landing, and then bolted down to the other end.

"Susannah!" I yelled as I ran. "Susannah, wake up!" I smacked several doors with the flat of my hand. "Wake up, please!" I was running out of breath, as well as room to run. I hoped and prayed that the end of the landing wasn't a dead end.

"Jesse!"

My wrist was seized and I was yanked into a bedroom I found a few seconds later to be Susannah's. She was far more beautiful than in my daydream – I knew now that I had not done her justice. She was dressed in a long night-gown – I averted my gaze from her body politely – and she wore her hair loose around her shoulders. Her eyes were a sparkling green and wide with worry.

"Jesse, what's going on?" she asked, and outside I heard Felix Diego making his way down the landing – the floorboards creaked beneath his weight. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Felix Diego," I explained, in between gulpfuls of air. "He's… trying to… kill me…" Susannah looked alarmed. "It was Maria-"

The loud footsteps of Felix Diego grew louder and louder until they could only be outside the door. They stopped abruptly, and there was a loud rap on the door. I gasped, and pushed Susannah behind me protectively.

And then I opened the door.

"Come on," Paul hissed, and he reached inside for my arm to pull me out. He did not, as I had done, look away from Susannah in her nightwear. Instead he continued to look at her, raking her body with his ravenous eyes. My blood began to boil – but Susannah gave me a gentle nudge to follow Paul before I could act upon my rage.

"Mediators!" Paul roared as we made our way back up the corridor. "Wake up! Only bring what you can – we're leaving!" Paul turned to look at me accusingly. "I hope you're happy," he snarled.

"What about Diego?" I asked, scanning the end of the corridor worriedly. Paul scoffed.

"He's lying unconscious on the floor of your room," he replied, before shoving me out of the way so that he could bang with his fist on another door. "We have to leave before he wakes up again." He turned to Susannah. "Suze, take this fool down to the wagons and start setting up, would you?" Susannah placed her hand in mine and tugged.

"You're not a fool," she told me, kindly. "Paul's just mad."

I sighed, liking the feel of her hand in mine far more than I should. As we fled the inn, I couldn't help wondering just how this night would affect my future with the mediators. I had caused trouble – yet I had stayed in, despite Paul's promise. But now I was treading on thin ice… and I knew that it was only a matter of time before the ice cracked.

Especially where Paul Slater was concerned.


	6. Chapter Five

**I personally like this chapter. I hope you do too.**

**Hey Meg, you should recognise the end of this from that tiny bit of paper in my pencilcase.**

* * *

_Chapter Five_

I sat in the tent that I – along with several other Mediators – had set up hastily in the dead of night the previous night, and observed the camp at work in the early morning. The sky was a pretty peach colour, with the sun lingering only centimetres above the horizon. Families scuttled past my tent, deep in conversation with each other, whilst others strolled past gently, casually discussing the event that would be taking place later in the day – the first Mediation in this new town.

And then, through the small packs of people, I spotted them – Paul and Susannah, wrapped in each other's arms and watching the sunrise. My stomach flipped – and I noticed that the feeling had intensified since the first time I had felt it. It now not only made me feel uncomfortable, it made me feel nauseated and ready to throw punches at anything that passed me.

I feared for any little children who came my way anytime soon.

I watched in envy as Paul twisted his hands in her hair, forcing her head onto his shoulder. She shifted uncomfortably in his grasp and I saw her body release in a loud sigh. Paul bent down to kiss the top of her head, before manoeuvring her head so that he could kiss her fully on the lips. I whirled around and hit the side of my tent angrily. It was ridiculous – I had no right to be jealous, I had only been in her life for mere days…

But I continued to feel sick – and not only out of jealousy. Paul ordered Susannah around like a slave, and not a loved one. The way he forced her into a kiss, an embrace… their relationship didn't appear natural. It appeared to be all on Paul's terms.

And then, the sun had risen, and they were apart. Paul was nudging her forcefully into their tent. I couldn't watch any more, and instead turned to get dressed, ready for my day helping out the Mediators prepare for the moment they opened their camp to the villagers, and began solving their supernatural quandaries.

I spent my next hour tidying the Mediation tent, along with Susannah and several other Mediators. The tent consisted of a single large table in the centre, complete with four chairs to match. The rest of the room was empty – though Susannah promised me it would be soon full of people.

"We're never without customers," she said. "Whether or not they believe – we're newcomers, strangers. We attract interest." She winked at me. "It's all because of me, of course." I smiled nervously.

"What time do we start?" I asked her. The room appeared to be almost finished. She smiled, and settled into a chair, apparently tired.

"Any minute now," she replied, before placing her head into the arms she had crossed on top of the table. I sat beside her, watching her concernedly. She giggled, the sound muffled by her arms. "You're worried."

"Are you tired?" I questioned her, and she shrugged.

"I'm just getting in an extra few minutes," she explained. "Mediating can be exhausting, and I just want to make sure I can handle a whole day without falling asleep." I squirmed in my chair, resisting the almost overpowering temptation of stroking her beautiful hair. My reverie – I had been considering the pros and cons – was suddenly broken as a Mediator I knew by face but not by name rushed into the room. Susannah sat up.

"What is it, Adam?"

"We've got a few at the gate," he answered. "Are you O.K to start?" I kept my eyes on Susannah, almost subconsciously. She was so beautiful it was near painful if I was forced to look away.

"Is Father D on his way?" Susannah asked, and Adam nodded. "O.K, open the gate. What are they like?" I realised now that 'they' meant the villagers.

"They look intrigued," he said. "Like they have some sort of idea of what we do, but they don't know everything."

"Perfect," came Paul's loud voice, making me jump. I swivelled in my seat to see him striding into the tent, followed by a loyal crowd of Mediators. "That means, that if all you get is nonsense, you can make it up." I frowned.

Susannah nodded wordlessly. Adam disappeared, and reappeared a few minutes later, bringing with him several young people wearing rags, along with confused expressions.

"This is Suze," he introduced them to Susannah, who smiled, and offered them a seat next to her. I felt a hand pinch my shoulders, and stood up hurriedly to see Paul growling at me.

"The seats are for the customers, De Silva," he muttered. "Not a chance for you to get closer to my girl." I blushed, turning my face and hoping he wouldn't see. The opening to the tent that had been allowing in a golden stream of light was suddenly let down and we were plunged into darkness for a few seconds, before Adam and a blonde girl I didn't know the name of lit torches and placed them in the corners. Susannah was now cast in an amber light, making her more beautiful than ever.

I closed my eyes, listening to her soft voice. It was almost like a lullaby, though I knew I could never fall asleep with her as close to me as she was now. She spoke kindly to her villagers, asking them in detail about their problem – which was a deceased family member moving what little furniture they had in their home. Susannah grew quiet for several seconds, before a low mutter erupted across the room. I opened my eyes to find nothing, but Paul's eyes were focused on a point beside Susannah, as were those of Father Dominic.

A ghost was in the room.

"I have him here with us now," Susannah said, calmly, and I saw now that her face was hard and focused – her brow puckered, her lips taut. It was the expression of passion – she was doing something she loved, and she had never looked so radiant. It surprised me how she could continue to become more and more striking… every time I looked at her, the somersault my heart did became more violent.

I was falling in love with her already.

Paul cleared his throat noisily, and I realised then that he must have noticed my gaze in Susannah's direction. I shifted my eyes reluctantly to pretend that I was instead staring at another girl – the blonde girl who had assisted Adam in lighting the torches. She could have been beautiful – she had eyes like violets – but she couldn't compare to Susannah.

"He misses you," Susannah continued. "He wants to make sure that you'll never forget him – he thinks that by moving your furniture, you'll always remember him." The villagers before her began sobbing, leaning on each others' shoulders and muttering words of thanks in Susannah's direction. Their cries were those of pain, of grief…

Would my parents think_ I_ was dead? I had never ventured further than the river before – would they think that I had been killed, and that was why I hadn't returned? I wondered if Josefina had told them what had happened – would they think the Mediators had murdered me?

I couldn't imagine Susannah being a murder – she was too perfect, too good. She would not be capable of such a deed.

But Paul…

I could feel the rumble of his heavy breathing – it sounded like a vicious snarl. Would he kill? Somehow I found myself wondering if he already had. He was aggressive towards the girl he supposedly loved… I pitied his rivals.

Would he consider me a rival?

Suddenly his breathing seemed louder, and more rhythmic, like a ferocious heartbeat. My gut jolted, and suddenly I felt like his prey. I had to get some air – the eaves of the tent were closing in on me and I began to feel claustrophobic…

"Excuse me," I muttered, and I forced my way past Paul and the rest of the Mediators who had gathered to witness the Mediation, until I was out in the air. I sank to my knees, relishing the cool wind. I inhaled heavily, until my heartbeat slowed and I began to feel calm. My panic had engulfed me so quickly – had it been the thoughts of home that had upset me?

"Are you O.K?" I turned to see Susannah approaching me. My heart swelled in admiration at the sight of her, and had to swallow several times before I could talk.

"Yes, thank you." I straightened, slowly. "I think… I think I'll just go sit in my tent for a few minutes." Susannah nodded understandingly, and to my surprise, she followed me. We sat down in silence, before I provided her an explanation. "I think everything just got a bit much for me in the tent. It was intense." Susannah nodded again.

"I guess it'll be like that for you the first couple of times," she said. "But I get such a high… I'm helping someone in a way that not many people can, you know?" Her eyes shone, and the passion was back on her face.

"You looked beautiful," I confessed, before wishing instantly that the words had not escaped my lips. "Doing something you love." Susannah's face contorted slightly in confusion.

My hand snaked forward, in the hope that she would take it – as she had so casually last night – but instead she moved purposefully several inches away from me. I flinched, hurt.

"Is it Paul?" I asked, and Susannah frowned.

"Is _what_ Paul?" she questioned, and I gestured to her and how she had moved away from me. She sighed. "I'm with Paul, Jesse. His is the hand I hold." I grew angry.

"I can't believe you're worried about remaining faithful to somebody like him," I hissed, venomously. Susannah's brow furrowed further.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded. "That Paul and I don't make a good couple – that he is a poor choice for somebody to be with?" I didn't answer. "That's rich coming from you," she scoffed. "Considering you not only kissed a _married _woman last night, but you were also eyeing Cee-Cee in the Mediation tent a minute ago – and she's married with two children!"

My mouth opened, ready to protest my innocence, but I thought better of it. The only explanation as to why I had been looking at Cee-Cee would result in me confessing my feelings for Susannah. Instead, I asked her the question that had been plaguing me.

"Why do you let Paul treat you like a possession?"

Susannah sighed. "I've known Paul for a long time," she replied. "He's like a brother to me – he's just being protective." I snorted.

"I think Paul has a bit more than brotherly love in mind," I said, and Susannah stood, angrily.

"Its not like I've had many options in this department, Jesse!" she cried. "Paul loves me – that's what sets him apart from everybody else." I exhaled shortly.

"Is that what you think?" I asked her, incredulously, and I rose to be at her level. "That nobody else cares for you like that?"

"Well?" demanded Susannah. "Is there?"

I acted on impulse. I secured my arms around her waist and pulled her close to me, pressing my lips forcefully to hers. To my astonishment, instead of pushing me away – which she should have rightfully done – she shifted so that her mouth moulded perfectly to mine and threw her arms around my neck. I had never experienced anything like it – the kiss with Maria could not possibly compare. I saw fireworks behind my closed lids and my heart-rate multiplied by a thousand. A thin sheen broke out across my forehead, and when Susannah and I had finally broken apart, I saw that her skin was flushed too.

She put a hand to her lips, stunned.

"Wow," she mused, before exhaling slowly. "We probably shouldn't have done that."


	7. Chapter Six

**I know, it's been a while! Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter. The updates will be more frequent now that I've FINALLY finished school. This chapter's more of a filler, but next one is hopefully more exciting.**

_Chapter Six_

I was lost in her eyes the second they met mine. A look of horror flashed across her face, causing my heart to slam against my ribcage with mortification. What had I done? I had just made a horrible, terrible mistake – that was what I had done. And now things would never be the same between us again.

"Susannah, I'm sorry…" I tried to reach out and grab her hand, but she leant away from me, rocking onto her knees. She reached up to touch her lip again like she'd been stung. I had this strange ringing in my ears and my head was spinning – that moment of contact between us had been the best of my life. But apparently, it was something she was eager to forget.

"I think we should just pretend it didn't happen," Susannah said, backing away from me further. "I mean, it would be best for you – and for me – and for Paul…" My blood boiled automatically at the sound of his name, whilst simultaneously a shiver ran up my back. I couldn't even imagine the consequences if Paul had witnessed that kiss.

"Susannah…" I tried saying her name again, ignoring the frenzy it sent my pulse into, and hoped it would somehow jolt some life into me. I stood there, numb, watching her step away further and further. She was very nearly out of the tent now.

"Yes," she muttered, mostly to herself. "That's what we'll do. We'll just act like normal – nothing ever happened…" For the first time in several minutes, Susannah's gaze flew to me again. An expression of desperation decorated her features, and she sighed, before she made her way over to me again.

She bent down took my face in her hands and kissed me, rougher than I had kissed her, filled with more longing, more decision – she had far more confidence than I did. I reached eagerly for her shoulders, bringing her back down to my level so that I could meet her lips and return the favour.

I was surprised by how comfortable kissing Susannah was. I had never kissed anybody in my life before – save pecking my mother on her cheek before I left the house every morning – but now as my lips moved against Susannah's, it was like I had never done anything but. Her cool fingers probed the hot skin of my neck and I could feel a continuous run of shivers fly up my spine.

Finally, we parted, gasping for breath. "Susannah," I murmured against her lips. "I think we should stop." She smiled, sitting back.

"We should have stopped ten minutes ago," she teased, running hands through her long, chestnut hair. "But I'm glad we didn't." She leant over to press a gentle kiss to my lips again. I shut my eyes, savouring the taste.

"Are you still going to pretend like this hasn't happened?" I asked, slightly apprehensive of the answer. "I don't think my heart could take that." She shifted herself closer to me, her fingers snaking up the back of my neck to play with my hair.

"I don't think my heart could take it either, Jesse," she replied, and I exhaled in relief. "I'm too far in." She kissed my neck. "It shouldn't have happened," she said. "But now it has, I don't want it ever to stop." She reached for my fingers, kissing each of them separately. Every second her skin came into contact with mine, I felt on fire.

"What are we going to do?" I freed my fingers from her hold and grazed her cheek instead. "If we aren't going to pretend that it never happened? What about Paul?" As much as it killed me to shatter the daydream, we couldn't ignore Susannah's admirer. I knew that if Paul found out, there would be dangerous consequences.

"I don't know," Susannah admitted. "But the thought of having to pretend to love him whilst I love you…" Flashes of the image I had been greeted with earlier this morning – of his arms entwined around her – entered my mind instantly, and I blinked them away. I glanced at Susannah, to see her expression was of equal discomfort. Suddenly, her final words caught up with me.

"You love me?" I asked. She nodded.

"I know it's only been a few days," she replied. "But it's like I've known you for all of my life. I don't have these feelings for Paul, who I have known for _years_. I guess it doesn't matter how long you know someone. When you love someone…" Her eyes met mine, shyly. "You love someone."

I took her face in my hand and kissed it. "I love you, too," I told her. "Before I met you, love was something I felt for my family. That flame is dim compared to the torch I hold for you."

"We'll work it out," she said, convincingly. "We'll work this you-and-I and me-and-Paul thing out, and then everyone will be happy." She rested her head on my shoulder and I stroked her hair; her voice resounding in my mind, and my confidence in her promise ebbing away.

* * *

Susannah left eventually, to continue with her mediations. I spent the afternoon exploring the camp – helping set up what was left to construct, aiding the women with the preparations for tonight's evening meal, and restraining the urge to wander into Susannah's wagon and sift through her belongings. I knew that Susannah wouldn't have minded to see me there, but if I had been caught by Paul, I would have had a lot of explaining to do.

Several hours after midday – the sun was now heading steadfastly for the horizon – Susannah reappeared, seemingly exhausted by the long day of hard work. She slipped me a quick kiss whilst nobody was looking, and gave me a crafty wink.

"I'm going to change into something more comfortable," she informed me, already halfway up the steps into her wagon. "I'll see you there." 'There' would be in the food tent, or the 'Banquet Hall' as it was jokingly referred to. It was a patchy tent owned by Cee-Cee and Adam McTavish, old friends of the Mediators. The smell coming from there was mouth-watering, and I struggled to calm my taste buds as I grew nearer. I was alone walking there – as no other Mediator besides Paul or Susannah had really registered my presence here yet – or so I had thought, until I felt a strong hand on my arm, and a rough yank in the opposite direction. I whirled around to see Father Dominic's wrinkled face contorted in anger. He gestured with his hand.

"Follow me," he ordered, and his voice was so majestic that I dared not disobey. He took me round to the back of the food tent, out of sight and out of earshot from anybody who was heading towards the tent. When Father Dominic spoke again, his voice was low and meaningful. It rumbled right through me, intimidating me far more than Paul ever had. "Something is disturbing me, Jesse."

"Disturbing you, Father?" I repeated, and he nodded gravely. He began to pace, and I followed him with cautious eyes. "Is it something I've done?" He didn't answer me directly.

"I care about Susannah, Jesse," he said instead, wringing his hands. "She is like my daughter – she has been in my care for a very long time. I do not want to see her get hurt."

I frowned in confusion. "I would never hurt her, Father Dominic," I promised him, however bewildered I was as to where this discussion had arisen. "I… _respect _Susannah as much as you do." Father Dominic dismissed my feeble reply immediately.

"I know _you _would never hurt her, boy." He spoke harshly. "But I know that your actions would instead lead _Paul Slater _to hurt her. Very much so, if he ever found out." He lowered his voice, bringing his face closer to mine. "He would hurt you the most."

My stomach flipped as realisation hit me. Father Dominic had spied Susannah and I in the tent this morning. Words spilled from my mouth in a desperate attempt to keep the secret hidden. "Father," I blurted out. "Please, you don't-"

"I do understand, Jesse," he corrected me. "And whilst I think you are a far better suitor for Susannah than Paul, I know that Susannah is already in his heart. It would be a bloody battle if you should intervene now." I considered, mulling over his words.

"It's a problem Susannah and I are trying to figure out ourselves," I admitted. "We can't not be together – but we can't admit our love for each other publicly either. A secret relationship is the only thing we can do at this moment in time."

Father Dominic shook his head. "The former would be most ideal, Jesse," he advised me, seriously. "For you not to bring yourself into Susannah and Paul's relationship is the only way to keep all three of you safe. To remain invisible until we reach your village again is the best thing for everyone." I grew angry.

"The best thing for you, you mean!" I growled. "So that you don't have to worry about containing a love triangle within your company! It's not the best thing for Susannah and I, who want to be together!" I began walking away.

"Jesse." His rough voice stopped me in my tracks. "If you disobey me, you are disobeying God." I spun around, confronting him furiously.

"God has given me these feelings for Susannah," I snarled. "And now I am going to act on them, wherever the chips will fall." Father Dominic's face remained composed. "You can't stop me."

I turned on my heel and proceeded back to the food tent. However, as I turned around the corner, I could still catch Father Dominic's parting words.

"I can not stop you," he said. "But Paul Slater will."


	8. Chapter Seven

**O.K, I _love _this chapter. The next story arc is pretty much why I started this fic. It's Jesse/Suze love at it's best, and I hope you enjoy it. Read and review!**

_Chapter Seven_

"Come _on_, people. Shake a leg."

I stirred, my vision blurred and my feet tingling as they came back to life from their previous numbness. I pulled myself into a sitting position to see Susannah slumped across them, her eyes still closed. I lost myself just for a second as I watched her sleep – she was entirely too beautiful for this Earth.

But then I spotted Paul, making the rounds, shoving people awake. I slid my feet out from underneath Susannah's grasp, and stood, trying to make out that I hadn't even noticed that she was in close vicinity. Paul shot me a vicious glare as he approached us, before kneeling down to ease Susannah awake. He looked up, his eyes narrow slits.

"What is she doing sleeping in the communal tent?" he demanded, as he uncrossed Susannah's arms and held her sleepy body close to his chest. "Why wasn't she in her wagon?" I feigned surprise as I looked down at her.

"I don't know," I replied, my eyes still wide in false astonishment. "I hadn't even noticed her there." Paul looked unconvinced, so I dropped the act. "Maybe she just fell asleep whilst we – _she! _– was helping the Mediators pack some stuff away last night." Susannah finally opened her eyes, and stretched her arms above her head, yawning. I couldn't help but note how adorably tousled her morning hair was.

"Susie," Paul greeted her, and I made a face behind him. Susannah grinned. "Today's the last day at this place, so we're going to be doing a lot of packing up today." Susannah placed a hand on his face and pushed him away.

"Thanks for the patronizing fill-in, Paul," she said. "But I think I got it. I've been doing this longer than you, if you remember." She stood – refusing aid from Paul – and smiled at me. Paul whirled around to stare accusingly in my direction, and I merely raised my eyebrows innocently.

"Don't sit around doing nothing, De Silva," he spat, before he swaggered away, shoving a sleepy pensioner as he did so. Susannah turned me to, reaching for my hand to squeeze it briefly, before letting go again.

"Good morning," she whispered, and I nodded in reply, fists clenching as I resisted the urge to take her in my arms and kiss her. "Well," she continued, surveying the large communal tent as drowsy workers began to rise. "I guess we'd better start packing."

We took the Mediation tent, carrying the unnecessary props back to the wagons – the crystal ball, the books on supernatural topics that occupied the shelves just to convince the customers. Susannah told me, as we walked to and from the wagons with our arms full, that they were all Paul's idea. Before him, the Mediation tent had been as bare as any other tent.

"It's a scam," she confessed, wiping her moist forehead after our sixth journey to the wagons. "It never used to be, but these days it's all about Paul's greed for money. You can't just _call _ghosts and expect them to appear, like we supposedly do during each one of our sessions. It's just pure luck whether or not they turn up – and if they don't, it's up to me or Father Dom to embroider a story that will satisfy whoever has come to us." She sighed, irritably. "I hate it – I hate denying people what they want. We're messing with their memories of people they loved, and we're messing with their hearts. Hearts are dangerous things."

"You can say again," I replied, and I leant in for a brief kiss.

We were making our way back to the tent to collect the last of the heavy volumes and spooky-looking ornaments, when Paul appeared, holding a child by his wrist. He shoved the child roughly to Susannah, with an annoyed expression – though I was beginning to wonder if that was the only expression he had. Susannah held the boy's head to her stomach, stroking his hair comfortingly. It seemed she already knew him.

"Take care of Jack, would you Suze?" Paul grunted, wiping sweat from his own forehead. "Little Brother's pissing me off." The small boy buried himself further into Susannah's tunic.

"Sure…" Susannah replied, uncertainly.

"There's a fair somewhere in the town – minstrels playing, someone selling apples. He'll like that. Just get him out of my hair – all he's doing is getting in the way." Susannah nodded, and Paul stalked away again, without even acknowledging me.

"Come on, Jack," Susannah said, taking his hand. "You want to go to the fair – you like apples, right?"

"Of course," Jack squeaked. "They're my favourite vegetable." I didn't bother correcting him. Now, he blinked up at me, apparently expecting an introduction. Susannah did the honours.

"This is Jesse, Jack," she remarked. "He's come to get some, er, Mediator experience." Jack held out a milky-white hand, and I shook it doubtfully. "Jack is Paul's little brother, Jess," she added, and I smiled.

"It's nice to meet you." Jack grinned, showing all his crooked teeth.

"Yes," he agreed, and retracted his hand. As we walked in silence out of the camp and towards the main part of the village, I noticed how different Jack was to his brother. For example, Jack's pale complexion didn't match at all Paul's tanned, rough skin. And whereas Paul was muscled and evidently exceedingly aware of how women found him attractive – his appearance, at least – Jack was skinny to the extreme, with a small, caved-in chest and self-esteem to match.

The village was busy; bustling with people as they fought to stay on the path with everyone else and not fly head-first into one of the stalls. The fences surrounding houses were adorned with colourful flags and signposting where to find each stall. The first one we came to was brightly painted, with a lopsided wooden sign reading in elaborate script:

_**Fortune Teller.**_

"Shall we?" I asked, immediately intrigued, but Susannah pulled a face. I shrugged, and she smiled, before holding up her index finger. She wanted me to wait.

She disappeared into the crowd with Jack, before reappearing some minutes later, looking exactly the same. Jack, however, was now extremely content with his toffee apple, and was sucking it hungrily, giggling whenever a piece of solid toffee fell off and landed conveniently in his mouth.

"O.K," said Susannah, straightening her tunic. "Now I'm ready." I held up the curtain that fell across the doorway as some kind of blockade, and gestured inside.

"After you." She ducked under the curtain and pulled Jack along, before I followed behind. Inside, there was a strong scent of vanilla, which went straight to the back of my throat, making me gag. There were chairs placed in a circle beneath the pointed roof of the tent – made from a purple material that looked so soft it could only be silk.

We took the three seats that were opposite a vacant table, and waited patiently. Jack removed his lips from around his toffee apple and inspected the tent with an expression that suggested he had a bad smell beneath his nose.

"Why are we here?" he asked, not successfully removing all of the contempt from his voice. Maybe he was Paul's brother after all.

"Because," Susannah answered, tolerantly. "You have our apple. Now it's me and Jesse's turn to do something we want." Jack settled in his chair, sulkily. Before he had time to grumble, however, a small woman swept into the tent from an unseen entrance, and greeted us with a toothy smile.

She had a puff of red hair sprouting from the top of her head like a piece of broccoli, and had more rings on her fingers than I could count. She wore a startling green colour, and from what I could judge, it was edged with the same material as the tent. She reached over the table – her sanctuary, evidently – and shook the hands of both Susannah and I, wisely leaving Jack to his sticky toffee apple.

"It's nice to meet you," she said, and as I sank back into my chair, I felt a card in my hand – one she must have slipped me as I touched her fingers. I flipped it over.

"Ah," said the woman, spying my discovery. "The love card. There is a great romance in your future." Susannah and I exchanged glances, blushing. She looked down at her lap to see her own card, and flipped it over. The fortune teller gasped. "The death card!"

Susannah dropped the death card like it was on fire, throwing it on to the table for the fortune teller to inspect. The teller held out a hand for my card too, and I handed it over reluctantly. She inspected the two of them together.

"It will be someone you both know," she mused, turning the cards so that she could view the pictures in different lights. "They will die, that is for certain." She replaced the cards on the table, before sighing. "The boy is gone, by the way." Simultaneously, Susannah and I turned to look at Jack, who was in the middle of both of us, to see the chair empty, except for the remains of his toffee apple. Susannah gasped, putting a hand to her 'o'-shaped mouth.

"Someone we both know," whispered Susannah, as we ran side-by-side out of the tent and into the crowd. "Someone we both know, Jesse! It's Jack, and Paul will never forgive me…" I scanned the mass of people urgently, looking for Jack's tawny-topped head.

"Jack!" I called. What was it with me and losing very small children?

"Let's split up," Susannah suggested. "You go left, I'll go right." I nodded, and set off in my allocated direction, pushing apart groups of people in my search for the small boy. It would be a black mark on my record if I lost Paul Slater's little brother.

"Jack!" I brought my cupped hands to my mouth and yelled again. "Jack! Please!" I wound down the narrow path, checking both sides of stalls for any sign of him. There was none – he had officially disappeared. I reached the edge of the village, out of luck and out of breath. I was just about to start back through the town again before I heard my name being called.

"Jesse!" I looked up – I had been leaning on my knees, winded, staring at the dusty ground – to see little Jack Slater running towards me, Cee-Cee McTavish in tow. I grabbed hold of Jack and shook him lightly.

"Where have you been?"

The boy blushed. "There was music playing," he confessed. "I wanted to listen." Cee-Cee had reached us now, with a wide smile.

"I found him," she said. "Paul sent me to fetch him, bring him back to help." A quick change of tune. Cee-Cee continued apologetically. "Paul's known for snap decisions," she added. I shook her head gratefully.

"Thank you for finding him," I replied. "I don't know what Paul would have done to me if we had lost him forever." Cee-Cee shrugged.

"Don't worry about it," she said. "I won't tell Paul anything about it." I started walking with her back in the direction of the camp, but she shook her head. "Enjoy the festival," she urged. "Find Suze, and have some fun. God knows you need it, after your first week with us."

I nodded, and began back towards the stalls. As I reached the first one, Susannah threw herself into my arms, sobbing. "I can't find him!"

"It's O.K," I answered, patting her head softly. "Cee-Cee found him. She's taken him back to the camp." There came an audible sigh of relief, and she buried her head further into my shoulder.

"Oh, thank _God_." I laughed, stroking her hair and making soothing sounds in her ear. "I thought Paul was going to murder me."

"Murder you?" I echoed, incredulously. "What would he have done to me? Stuck me on a skewer and barbecued me, no doubt." Susannah finally lifted her head from my shoulder and smiled, running a hand down my face.

"I wouldn't have let him," she promised. "What are we going to do, now?" I chewed my lip.

"Cee-Cee suggested we look around the fete," I said. "But I think I saw enough it whilst I was running through it, looking for Jack. What do you think?" Susannah nodded in agreement. "Shall we take a walk, then?"

We veered away from the busy village centre, taking a more rural route around the houses and across a field, hand-in-hand. In the quiet, a gently zephyr blew across my face, and I began to relax, my heart rate slowing after the previous adrenaline rush. Every now and again, we stopped, and our lips met, enjoying the touch of each other's skin. I loved her, there was no doubt. I could only hope she felt anything remotely close for me.

After a while, we came to a church, quite a while out of the town. It was pretty – made from russet-coloured bricks and had a thatched roof. There was a small stone walkway to the oak double-doors, and I could just picture Susannah waltzing down it in a white dress…

And then a thought struck me.

I turned to Susannah, whose eyes, like mine had been, were on the picturesque church. Her lips were pursed, her eyes glazed with a dreamy expression. I could tell the very same image had come to her.

"_Querida_?" I asked, innocently, as I sank to my knees. I took my hand in hers, and her face shone with amazement as she watched me. "Will you marry me?"


	9. Chapter Eight

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one.**

_Chapter Eight_

Susannah remained stuck to the spot, her startling green eyes glazed over. As the minutes passed in silence, I got to my feet, and waved a hand in front of her face, disappointment and mortification flooding to my heart and overwhelming me. I feel the embarrassment burning my cheeks.

"Susannah?" I asked, concernedly, and she came out of her reverie still looking a little stunned. "Are you feeling alright?" She shook her head, but not in answer to my question.

"I'm fine," she replied, colour returning to her face again. She even managed a weak chuckle. "I think I'm just going a little crazy. I thought you just asked me to marry you." A pallid smile appeared on my lips.

"I did, _querida_," I assured her, clutching her hands, and I felt her go weak in my grasp. I clung to her, keeping her steady. "Do you need to sit down?" She nodded, and I guided her down as I crouched and she sat across my lap. She wrapped arms around my neck and locked her hands, regaining her equilibrium. She eventually turned to me, her eyes bright.

"Are you serious?" she demanded.

"Of course," I answered, my expression solemn. She shook her head again, this time incredulously. "What's the matter?"

"We hardly know each other!" she cried, and she removed her arms from around my neck just to accent her point. She even tried to stand back on her feet, but surrendered to my lap again when she couldn't. "Jesse, I just feel we need to know each other a little better before…"

"We have the rest of our lives to find out the finer points!" I argued, and this faltered Susannah. Her lips remained half-open, as if incapable of a sensible response. I wrapped both arms around her and pulled her close. "Susannah," I continued. "I love you. Don't you feel the same way?"

She paused. "Yes…" she began, a little unsurely. And then she corrected herself. "Yes," she said again, more confidently this time. She laughed. "But we don't have any rings!" I tittered in return.

"You leave that to me," I replied, and I helped her to her feet. Susannah caressed my cheek with her hand, and I savoured the feel of her soft skin. "You just make yourself beautiful." I amended. "Not that it will take much doing." She blushed, a pretty pink colouring her cheeks.

I walked Susannah back to the village, where she took off in her own direction – she promised me she would collect clothes from the camp and return to the church as quickly as possible – and disappeared into the crowd of people, which was considerably thinner than earlier in the morning. I turned in the opposite direction towards the blacksmith, my own mission to carry out.

I stepped into the musky blacksmith's, the metallic stench burning my nostrils. It was noisy – just like the blacksmith's back home – and for a second I was transported back to my own village, and felt a pang of homesickness. I wondered what my father would think of me getting married – and how my mother would have longed to be there. I felt guilty, but the thought of Susannah in a wedding dress pushed everything else to the back of my mind.

I bowed my head and stepped further into the shop, clearing my throat to get someone's attention. A young boy – probably around my age – stepped out from behind a door that obviously let to where most of the production was done. He greeted me with a brief smile, and I didn't waste time with small talk. I was too eager to return to the church.

"Can I have two bands, please?" I asked, and I gestured with my hand to show I wanted rings. He nodded, understanding immediately. He disappeared out of sight round the back and I could hear murmuring, before he reappeared again.

"That will be five pieces of silver," he told me, and I realised that I hadn't brought any money with me. In my excitement, I had wandered into the blacksmith's on a high without any currency whatsoever. Seeing my blank expression, the blacksmith grinned, and shrugged. "You know what?" he continued, lowering his voice. "We'll let it slide. Just don't tell my boss." I felt a rush of relief wash over me, and smiled back gratefully.

"Thank you." My voice was barely a whisper.

"Hey, did you want something engraved on it?" the boy asked, and I paused, deep in thought. _I love you _seemed too generic, but then nothing else had the same meaning. And _I like you very very much _wouldn't really fit…

And then I was hit by something of my past – something my parents used to say to each other. It was a small bit of the Spanish me and my sisters had grown up with.

_Te Amo_.

I relayed this to the blacksmith – and after his confused expression, spelt it out, too – and pondered on this. It was perfect – it was combining my past at home with my future life. And it was definitely original – even if it was just _I love you _in Spanish.

The rings were finished, and I admired them as I walked quickly back to the church. They were a copper colour, glinting gently in the late afternoon sun. I slipped one onto my finger, and liked how snugly it fit. It was like the ring had been made for me.

Placing the rings in my pocket, I bent down the stream that ran past the church and splashed some cool water onto my face, finger-combing my hair flat. I needed to make myself at least semi-presentable. _Dios_, it was my wedding!

I then slipped into the cool vestry, where the priest was kneeling, eyes closed, praying. I waited silently against the wall until he was finished. He heard my footsteps on the hard stone, however, and turned around before he was done, surveying me with narrow eyes. I smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry, sir," I said, nodding my head politely. "I didn't mean to intrude. I only meant to ask if you would perform a short ceremony for-" He held up his hands for silence, and I heeded him. He smiled, a crinkly smile that didn't quite reach his tired eyes.

"Your lady has already been to see me," he replied, and the thought of Susannah turned my heart. "And of course – I would be glad to. She is changing a moment." He smiled more, showing his teeth. "She is beautiful." I nodded in agreement.

"I assume you have rings…" the priest continued, wandering out into the nave. I followed him helplessly, clutching the copper bands in my pocket. He proceeded down the aisle, and I trailed after him, my pulse accelerating with every step. We reached the altar, and I came to a stop, my final footstep echoing through the rest of the church.

"Here she comes," the priest murmured, and I glanced down the end of the aisle, where the oak doors had just begun to open. As they pulled apart, I spotted a slim shape dressed in white, and as she got closer, I began to recognise Susannah's features: the cascade of chestnut curls, the pink blush on her cheek…

A thin sheen broke out across my forehead, and my fingers became instantly clammy. But I wasn't nervous, oh no. I was _excited. _I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, hitting my fingertips and then bouncing back again. My heartbeat seemed to echo against the walls, along with the roaring in my ears. There was no other sound except for Susannah's small steps on the stone floor, getting louder and louder as she grew closer and closer…

"Hi," she said, timidly, as she reached the altar, and I smiled. I took her hand and kissed it, before turning to the priest. His mouth was a thin line and he watched our exchange, almost with a sadness, before he opened his Bible.

"O.K," I murmured in Susannah's ear, as the priest began the ceremony. "Here goes…"

* * *

The service was peaceful; I couldn't have imagined it more perfect with a church full of people. It was the simplicity – the fact that there were only three of us in the entire building that afternoon – that made it so memorable. The way the priest's words hit the back wall despite him speaking softly, the way I could hear the _swish _of Susannah's dress as she lifted her finger up so I could place the ring on her finger.

As Susannah signed her name on the register, I admired my own finger. The copper band fit perfectly, as if my finger had been designed for the ring, and not the other way round. It glinted in the setting sun that shone through the stained glass as I scrawled my own name, and then the two rings sparkled together as our fingers entwined.

There was a bubble inside me, an elation so great but just kept on growing as the minutes progressed. I was _married _to Susannah, the girl I loved, and nothing could destroy that happiness.

We ran back to the camp through the fields, hand-in-hand, giggling like two foolish school-children. The sky was a deep midnight blue now, and a thousand-thousand stars glinted above us in the velvet blanket, though they could not hold a torch for the way Susannah's eyes shone, and the way I was sure mine did.

We reached the gate to the camp and slid through it silently, knowing that everyone else would be asleep by now, ready for the day of travel tomorrow. We headed simultaneously for Susannah's wagon; I held up the cloth that fell across the entrance as Susannah hitched up her skirts and ducked through, and I followed eagerly. She greeted me with a hard kiss, passionately pressing her mouth to mine as I let the cloth fall, the darkness consuming us.

We fell back automatically onto the mattress that had been the first thing I'd seen, the day I met the Mediators. Susannah's breaths, along with my own, were deep and ragged as our lips broke apart for the first time in minutes, and she aided my hands as they slipped up her leg and tangled in her petticoat. Electricity taunted my spine as we continued, both giddy with the high we had been riding on since the early afternoon. I reattached my lips to hers to stifle the sounds that came next.


	10. Chapter Nine

**FOUR REVIEWS?! FOUR?! Sniff. Nobody loves me.**

**Meh, ignore me. Enjoy.**

_Chapter Nine_

I woke the next day to find myself alone in Susannah's wagon, and clutching a blanket up to my neck. As I stood up, I realised two things: outside, it was raining. I was also without any clothes. No wonder I was cold.

I dressed hurriedly in my clothes I found strewn across the floor from last night. As I pulled my tunic over my head, I recounted the events of the previous evening, and grinned. Susannah was now _mine._ I had bound her to me … in all sorts of ways.

I turned, and saw for the first time something glittering on my pillow. The wan sunshine that came in through the window sent yellow sparkles off the golden chain that had been laid carefully across the cushion. Beside it was a piece of parchment. My fingers trembled as I picked it up, recognising Susannah's elegant handwriting.

_Wear your wedding ring as I wear mine: close to the heart._

Of course – Susannah and I couldn't publicly wear our wedding rings. Too many questions would arise, and we would have to face Paul and his wrath. I picked up the golden chain and slid my ring onto it, securing it around my neck and dropping it out of sight. The cool metal felt odd against my skin, but it sent my heart hammering in a way that only Susannah could.

I stepped out of the wagon – checking both ways to ensure I wasn't being watched first, obviously – and found that everyone was engrossed in their preparations for the big move. I saw with some amusement that several villagers were at the gate to the field, their eyes wide with curiosity. I couldn't help remembering how I had been in that exact position back home.

I joined Cee-Cee and Adam in their packing – resisting the urge to question Susannah's whereabouts – and amazingly, a whole hour flew by before I could even register it. With some relief, I noticed nobody seemed to pick up on the elation I could have sworn I radiated – either that, or they ignored it. I couldn't help the glow I exuded every time I thought of Susannah and our clandestine wedding.

But the real test came when I came into contact with Susannah for the first time two hours after that – at lunch time, in the one tent we had still standing. I took my bowl of stew over to where Susannah sat cross-legged on the grass, fingers on her neck. I knew what she was doing – it was something I had been subconsciously doing myself. She was reaching for her chain, her touchstone. Something that held us together even when we were apart.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. De Silva," I whispered in her ear briefly, and she returned a rosy-pink smile. "How are you?"

After finishing a spoonful of her meal, she replied, "Oh, I'm fine. Just, you know, coming down from a high. I had a pretty spectacular evening last night. Nothing you would know about." She winked at me teasingly.

"Hmm, I know what you mean." I reached out for her fingers and squeezed them. "I love you," I mouthed. She kissed my hand quickly, before replacing it back on my lap.

"Come on, come on!" Paul's booming voice sounded loudly as he made his way into the tent, and Susannah and I jumped apart, even though our contact had finished. "Finish your food quickly! I want to be on our way by mid-afternoon!" I had no idea what the time was now, but by the way most people stared shoving their wooden spoons into their mouths with increased speed, it must have been approaching somewhere near mid-afternoon.

"I'll see you later," Susannah muttered, getting to her feet. With her back turned to Paul, she said, "I love you too." I smiled, a sinking feeling plummeting through my stomach as I realised we couldn't have a real marriage whilst around Paul. We couldn't have the marriage I'd dreamed of – the one my parents had. It would all have to be illicit meetings after dark, stolen kisses behind tents. And there was no hope for a family.

I finished my lunch wordlessly, and returned back to work. Both Susannah and I were sent to pull down the last tent, and we exchanged mouthed messages and meaningful glances the entire time. The metal against my chest felt even colder now as expressions of sadness crossed Susannah's face every time she had to look away.

By dusk, Paul was getting impatient. He stormed around the camp, frail Father Dominic trailing helplessly behind him, and barked orders at anyone who passed. It seemed the impossible task of being ready to leave by mid-afternoon had been failed, though it was only a couple of hours later that we were all sat in various wagons, leaving behind the town. To the Mediators, it seemed an endless ritual, and I watched the other wagons as only the children stood at the windows, watching the lights of the village fade away into the distance. I stood at the window of Susannah's wagon – where I had miraculously managed to board without Paul spotting me – and found myself thinking of the last time we had left a town; my town. Everything had been so different. Now everything had changed.

As the sky grew darker, the children retreated to the laps of their parents, and I found my place at Susannah's side, who was slumped against the side of the wagon in a light doze. I settled quietly against the wood, and lifted my necklace up so I could examine my ring. I couldn't help but shake the feeling that maybe the wedding had been a bad idea, that Susannah's first instinct was right. I loved Susannah, I knew that much. But I loved her enough to feel an agonising guilt over the fact that I couldn't give her the married life we both wanted.

* * *

Night drifted into morning, and I awoke with Susannah's head on my shoulder, like it had been that first day we had met. I buried my head into her perfumed hair, and kissed her scalp gently. She stirred, and reached to cradle my face with her fingers, kissing my lips with her eyes still closed.

"Good morning," she whispered, and I kissed her back.

"Good morning indeed," I replied, and she smiled against my lips. "This is a little different to yesterday morning." She giggled.

"I'm still just as happy," Susannah sighed, and she pulled me closer to kiss me more deeply. "We got _married_. I'm now _Mrs. De Silva_." I squirmed as I felt a fresh wave of guilt. I remained silent, sparing her of the doubts of our life together that I had felt earlier. "I love you, Mr. De Silva." I smiled, and ran my hands through her hair as I lost myself in her dazzling brown eyes.

"I love you, too."

She raised an eyebrow. "You know," she said, and she pressed an ear to the wood. "Whoever is driving this thing couldn't possibly hear what goes on inside this wagon. Especially if we're quiet." I glanced at her questioningly. "I mean, it's still quite a while till we get to the next town." She suppressed a yawn. "And I'm _so _bored…"

"Susannah," I said, sternly, but she pressed a finger to my lips.

"Quiet, remember?" She grinned. "Now, kiss me."

She didn't really have to say anything else. I was completely won over.

* * *

The new town didn't really look any different to the last one. The same style houses, the same green expanses that we pulled into and set up camp. I wondered if I would even recognise Carmel if we drove back into it.

The set-up of the new camp was quicker than it had been to dismantle, surprisingly. Our speed seemed to put Paul in a good mood, and he gathered us all round a bonfire as soon as it became dark enough to light one. By the sounds of the Mediators' mutters, it seemed that Paul didn't throw celebrations that often. In fact, everybody's face was stunned as he ordered a barrel of ale from the food tent and offered a tankard to everyone.

"What's going on?" Susannah asked Adam as we joined his side, and he shrugged. "Paul throwing a fiesta? Something is definitely going on."

"I don't know," replied Cee-Cee, on Adam's right. "Maybe he just feels like being nice. He was being light-hearted to everyone in the wagon on the way here. He was even nice to baby Pru, and you know how he hates my kids."

We had no longer to dwell on it, however, as Paul called for silence and stood on top of a box so that everybody could see him.

The rings of smoke from the bonfire rose higher and higher as silence fell, and I clutched the hand of my wife automatically. Something was about to happen, and I wasn't entirely sure if it was a good thing.

"Are you O.K?" Susannah turned to me, and in the fumes of the fire she looked strange and sultry. She clutched my fingers tightly as I managed to nod, but a horrible feeling of doom crept over me as Paul began to raise his tankard. He cleared his throat, and my stomach did a somersault.

"I have an announcement to make!" he cried, and everybody exchanged glances. I kept a hold of Susannah's hand in the darkness. "Or, rather, I have an announcement to make on behalf of somebody else." A smug grin fell across his features.

"What's going on?" Adam asked, his expression bewildered. I remained silent, my eyes on Paul. A roaring began in my ears.

"A little birdie told me…" Paul continued, but then he paused and corrected himself. "No, _two _little birdies have passed on some very interesting information to me."

"Did somebody slip something into his ale?" Cee-Cee asked, and she pulled a face at her own tankard. "Bernadette, honey, don't drink that ale…"

I tuned out everybody else as Paul kept talking. My pulse started racing, and as I heard Paul's next words I realised the inevitability of it all.

"Those two birdies," he said, "were a blacksmith, and a priest, from the previous town. It seems two people in our camp have gone behind our back and gotten married!" Susannah glanced at me in horror.

"How did he find out?" she demanded. She hadn't heard what Paul had said. I had to admit, the words had barely registered with me.

But the blacksmith and priest I had visited had betrayed us. That was why they had been so happy to help us – to do it so easily. Because they were working for Paul, and he would be looking after them. My fists curled.

"Congratulations, Jesse," Paul finished, with a nod in my direction. "I wish you a lifetime of happiness." And he winked at me. I knew at that moment, as he tilted his tankard towards me as every face around the bonfire turned to stare, that what he said and what he meant were two different things.

And I was just about to find out exactly what he really meant.


	11. Chapter Ten

**I understand there's been some kind of review recession (at least for me!) so anyone who reads and reviews I really appreciate. This is probably a chapter I am really proud of, and I hope you enjoy it too. Don't hate me TOO much!**

_Chapter Ten_

No matter how long I stared at Paul, his words resounding in my head as I tried to make sense of his words, the knot in my stomach did not ease one bit. If anything, it tightened, causing a fresh wave of nausea to sweep over me every ten seconds, until I was positive I was about to vomit at Susannah's feet.

The Mediators were murmuring now, revelling in the new gossip Paul had provided them with. Most heads were turned in the direction of Susannah and I – including those of Cee-Cee and Adam – and I could feel my fingers burning as everyone searched for a trace of a ring. Paul stood a foot above anyone else, a smirk firmly plastered across his face and his glass still raised. I hated him.

"I'll be back now," I said quietly to my wife, and Susannah nodded meekly, watching me go. I turned to gaze one more second in her eyes, and she squeezed my hand. "Don't do anything stupid," she begged me. I couldn't promise her anything.

I waded through the crowds of people – it seemed every Mediator, whether or not they had previously joined in with the celebration Paul had arranged, was now here, making my path to Paul even harder – until I reached Paul. He took an irritatingly purposeful second to meet my eyes, prolonging my outburst. My fists curled.

"Paul," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Can I speak with you in the tent, please?" My teeth ground together as I spat out that last word. Paul was the last person in the world I should have to be civil to. He didn't answer me, and instead looked up again to greet his camp.

"Fellow Mediators!" he cried, and silence fell across the crowd. "I propose a parade!" I joined Cee-Cee now in her suspicions of Paul's tankard being spiked. A _parade_? Just to annoy me further, I suppose? "Run through the town!" he continued, and a faint murmur began to spread, seemingly agreeing with the idea. "Spread the news of our arrival, and our talents!" He dropped his gaze to mine, along with his voice. "Don't you think that's a good idea, Jesse?"

I released a growl, and turned on my heel, searching for Susannah. I found her amidst the crowd, and her cool fingers grasped mine, her breath ragged as she was jostled by the people hurrying in the opposite direction. "Jesse," she whispered. "What's going on?" It appeared she was as confused as I was.

"I don't know," I confessed, and my grip on her hand tightened. "But I think we'd better follow him. Only God knows what he's planning."

The Mediators became rowdy, and the volume of our mob grew. Men roared drunkenly, and children sat aboard their parents' shoulders wailed at the height. Snatches of folk songs could be heard, and the further we wound into town, the more people we drew from their houses in curiosity.

"We are the Mediators!" announced Paul, waving his tankard triumphantly. I was now convinced he was drunk. "And we are here to solve your supernatural troubles!" Little Father Dominic cantered at his side, shoved along by the crowd behind him. "We open tomorrow morning, come to us!" This was echoed by an enormous cheer from his camp, and Susannah clung to me in trepidation.

"What's he doing?" she asked. "He's just disturbing the town, he's not bringing us business." I nodded in agreement, as I watched Paul receive frown after frown from sleepy villagers. Susannah suddenly gasped. "Look!" she cried. "The sheriff!" I followed her gaze to see two men – most likely the sheriff and his deputy – sat astride two men, blocking Paul's path up ahead as he led his clan onwards. He didn't appear to have noticed them yet.

I watched from at the back of the crowd as the sheriff raised his hand to the dark sky and two large bangs filled the air. He had shot for silence, and the Mediators slowly heeded, shushing their frightened children and scolding their raucous men. Paul and Father Dominic proceeded, and a low rumble told me they were receiving a reprimand from the angry sheriff. Father Dominic shifted his weight as he gestured largely with his hands, but Paul held up just one hand, silencing him. He turned to face his crowd.

"My camp!" he cried. "Return to your tents and wagons!" Everybody began to move, but he hadn't finished. "Except," he continued, with a smug expression, "Jesse De Silva." I froze, as did Susannah. She glanced at me in horror.

"What…?" she began, but she was silenced by a stampede of people hurrying back to camp. I clung to her as quick as I could, but she was already gone, swept away by the sea of Mediators. She waved to me as she was pulled backwards, before blowing me a kiss in defeat.

And then, as I turned, there was nothing in the space between Paul Slater and I, not even frail Father Dominic. I started towards him, everything amplified – the whinnying of the sheriff's horses, the scuffling of my boots against the dusty ground – and stared at him levelly all the way, searching for an answer. Why me and only me?

"Jesse," he greeted me, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Thank you for coming to help me settle things with the sheriff." He gestured for me to stand in front of him, and I did so, nodding at the sheriff I faced.

"Sir," I said. He nodded back.

"Jesse." I felt Paul's breath on my neck, and his words in my ear. He was stood barely inches behind me, my conscience on my shoulder. His voice was so low I strained to make out the words. "Repeat everything I say." Surprisingly, I didn't hesitate.

"Sir," Paul said, and so I said it again. "Please dismount that horse so you and I can see eye-to-eye." I reiterated his words, and the sheriff agreed, jumping down so that I now stood – with my unusually tall frame – several inches above him. "I apologise for my friends' behaviour tonight."

The sheriff was not so obliging as I said this. "Well, see here," he began, and Paul sighed in boredom. "You can't just come here disturbing my town at such a late hour…" I didn't take any leads on this one. I knew I'd be far more cordial than Paul on this occasion.

"Yes, sir," I said, effortlessly polite. "I understand. I can't even imagine the inconvenience this has caused. I apologise completely, and hope that we can come to some sort of agreement."

"Now," Paul breathed, and I paused, "you're going to punch him in the face." I froze, hands falling limply at my sides. Punch a sheriff? Was he _insane? _"Punch him," Paul urged, forcibly enough that I could taste the alcohol in his breath. "Punch him, or I'll shoot that pretty little wife of yours."

My decision was made with those eight words. I swung my arm back – Paul had already stepped back to allow the arc – and ploughed my fist straight into the jaw of the unsuspecting sheriff, who keeled over and sunk to the floor, cursing and massaging his bruised skin. My heart began pumping at an accelerating pace, and I watched the scene unfold in horror as if I was watching from above. My fist didn't even sting.

The deputy leapt down from his horse, powerless without his superior, and paid no attention to me as he attended to his peer. I turned in horror to accuse Paul, to find that he had drawn a large dagger from his belt and held it before me, the hilt glittering in the faint moonlight. In slow-motion Paul turned it gracefully so that the point was facing him, and glanced up at me, as if he was making a decision. He glanced at the two sheriffs – the deputy was still bent over his chief – before quickly and forcefully plunging the blade into his lower abdomen.

"No!" I roared, but Paul was already falling to the floor, scarlet liquid flowing from his wound. My shout alerted the deputy, who swung round to see Paul flat on his back on the ground, a dagger protruding from his stomach and crying out in pain.

"Jesse!" he cried, and despite his agony the malice was still visible in his eyes. "How _could _you?" The deputy launched himself on me, knocking me to the floor and securing my hands behind my back with rope. He began murmuring in my ear, but his words barely registered as my eyes were still on the dagger Paul had thrust into his own body.

He was going to die. There was no way a dagger that large could _not _kill its opponent. But nobody had seen what had really happened – that Paul had injured himself, and I was innocent.

Or so I thought.

"Jesse!" A female voice rang shrilly through the cool air, and light footsteps grew closer until I saw Susannah peering over me. "Jesse! Sheriff, he's innocent!"

The sheriff, I saw, as I was yanked to my feet by the deputy, had recovered now from the blow I had dealt him. It could have only been seconds ago, yet it felt like hours, _days. _He surveyed me now, as I was bound, with narrow eyes.

"You're under arrest," he growled, ignoring Susannah completely, "for assaulting the sheriff, and for the murder of this man." He gestured to Paul, and I struggled to avert my eyes from Paul's lifeless form.

"Sheriff!" Susannah tried again, her voice feeble with shock. "I saw the whole thing! Paul killed _himself_!" I felt a rush of gratitude towards my wife as she kept insisting, following us all the way back to the horses. Yet neither of the sheriffs paid her any attention. "_Please_!" she begged. "Just believe me…"

"Get out of the way, girl," the sheriff ordered, finally, and he dealt her a shove that knocked her to the ground. As she fell, I saw too late that her head would collide with the one boulder in the expanse of green. I cried out in horror, but she was already there – her head hit the rock with a sickening _thunk _before she rolled onto the floor, her whole body still, a red liquid congealing amidst her scalp. I felt sicker than ever.

"Please, that's my wife!" I cried, but I was ignored as I was bound further, ropes attaching me to each of the horses' saddles. My words fell on deaf ears as I pleaded for medical attention for my wife, but neither of them cared. I was a criminal in their eyes, deserving all I got.

I knew I deserved none of this. I had not killed Paul, and I loved Susannah more than I loved anything else in the world.

But I soon saw, as I was dragged behind the horses towards what I presumed was the jailhouse, that none of that was relevant now. I had lost the only thing I ever needed in life. It was gone forever, and I was never, _ever, _going to get it back.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Thanks for the reviews! I tried hard with this chapter, I hope I did it justice. Enjoy!**

_Chapter Eleven  
_**PRESENT DAY.**

Joe knelt before the bars separating us, his knuckles white as he clenched the metal in excitement. His mouth was a little round 'o' as I finished, and his eyes were even wider. He watched me in amazement, as if he was still waiting for me to continue.

"Jesse," he whispered in wonder, and I raised an eyebrow in confusion. Perhaps he had fallen into a daydream. I _had _been talking for a long time.

"Joe," I said in return, and the boy shook his head in response, letting go of the bars and sinking back into a cross-legged position. There was a smile on his face.

"No," he replied, chewing his lip in anticipation. "I mean, you're _Jesse De Silva_." He paused, as if waiting for me to comprehend. Joe's smile grew. "Don't you recognise me?"

I studied his profile again – the longish straggly hair, the fairly large brown eyes. I had to admit, there was something vaguely familiar about him, yet I couldn't place him. And I was definitely sure that I didn't know anybody named Joe…

"It's me!" Joe exclaimed, releasing me from my misery. He even got to his feet, before checking around him to make sure none of the guards had heard his raised voice. "It's me, Jesse!" he said again, excitedly. "I'm… I'm Josefina, your sister!"

And then, as I looked at her a second time, I felt a fool for not seeing it sooner. Of course, she looked a hundred times older than the last time I'd seen her – her face was thinner, her eyes more sunken. But there was still that small freckle she had had below her right eye that she'd possessed since she had been born, and her hair was exactly the same shade of dark brown – the shade of my hair – and her olive skin hadn't changed one bit.

In an instant, I was on my knees at the bars between us, scrabbling for her hands to hold to my heart. "_Querida_," I breathed, and my cheeks were suddenly damp. "You were caught stealing bread for _our _family?"

Josefina nodded, wiping away her own tears. "Yes," she whispered. "_Padre _grew sick after you left and he…" She paused, sniffing. "…he didn't make it. _Madre _decided to move us all to another town so that we could have more money but… it didn't work out. And so I tried to steal some bread, but-"

"Oh, Josefina," I sobbed, reaching into her cell further to embrace her. "This is all my fault – _Padre_'s death, your poverty… I never should have left. And now you're in jail, and you're going to be punished!"

"This isn't your fault, Jesse," Josefina assured me, squeezing my hand. "I saw your face that day you got stuck on the Mediators' wagon, it wasn't intentional. It was my fault you even went on there in the first place." She paused, smiling sadly. "But I'm so glad you met Susannah, _hermano_. I'm so glad you married her!" Her eyes sparkled. "Can I see your ring?"

Reluctantly, I reached beneath my tunic for the chain I wore around my neck. Josefina admired the metal band breathlessly, turning it over in her hand. "Did you find out what happened to Susannah, Jesse?" she asked. "Is she alright?" My head dropped, a fresh wave of grief washing over me.

"No," I said, quietly. "I mean, I don't know. The last I saw of her was that day, the day Paul killed himself and I was arrested by the sheriffs. I have no idea what has come of Susannah since then." I brushed away tears with the back of my hand. "And now it's been a week and a half, and I'm to be condemned to death…" I coughed back a howl, sparing Josefina my agony.

"You'll see her again, Jesse," Josefina said, though her voice held all the doubt I felt. "When you love someone, they'll never leave you." She kissed my hand. "There wasn't one day when I didn't think of you, Jesse," she added. "And there wasn't one day when _Madre y Padre _didn't think of you, either. I told them the Mediators had taken you away, and they tried their hardest to come after you. But _Padre _was too weak, and none of us could walk that far." Her lips were set in a thin, sad line.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered again. I pulled myself as close as I could to the bars, clutching her hand. And we waited there until daybreak, entwined in each other, holding on until the very last second.

* * *

"De Silva. Rise and shine."

I jerked awake – miraculously, I had fallen asleep despite my agitation. Josefina was still snoozing against the cold metal bars, and I shook her awake with gentle hands. It was time.

With the loud clang of metal against metal, my cell was unlocked, and I was led out. There was nothing I could do about the way they roughly handled my sister – I was treated the same. I just reached for her hand, offering her any comfort I could.

"Jesse," she murmured, as we spotted the sunshine ahead. "I'm scared." There was fluttering inside my own chest, but I didn't let on. If Susannah really was… dead, I would seeing her soon.

"Scared, _chica_?" I asked. Josefina nodded as we continued to walk, our footsteps echoing eerily against the cold, hard stone.

"Yes," she said. "I'm scared of this death penalty. God will not let me into heaven now that I have stolen." A sinking feeling rumbled low inside me, a feeling of hate towards whoever condemned my sister – my sister of only eight – to this moment of torture.

"_Querida_," I replied, daring to reach across the gap between us to graze her cheek. I echoed the words Father Dominic had uttered to me all that time ago. "God will forgive you anything."

The guard seizing me nodded to the thin man holding the lock to the large double doors ahead. There was a slim crack in the wood, allowing a sliver of sun to blind me. The doors creaked open, and then all I could see was golden sunshine, and feel the heat on my skin. A feeling I hadn't experienced for so many days.

"Goodbye, Jesse," Josefina wept, as we were led in opposite directions. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I answered, as my hands were secured with coarse rope, and I was shoved onto the stool. The wooden frame of the gallows blocked my view of the curious crowd. Fellow criminals were pulled to their own stools, the final place we would all stand before death.

And then, as I watched the arc of the guard's foot as he kicked the stool out from beneath me, I held my breath, only thinking of those I had lost, and those who I would soon see again. Susannah.

_I'm coming, querida_.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**The penultimate chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed last chapter. I'm sorry its taken me a little while longer than I'd hoped, but its here now. And I promise the epilogue won't take as long. I hope you like!**

* * *

_Chapter Twelve_

As I fell, the world around me started swirling – the colours merging, folding into one…

Black.

I slowly began to lose the feeling in separate parts of my body. First my fingers tingled right down to their tips till I couldn't feel anything – like I had no fingers at all, and at the end of my wrists was nothing. The same happened with my feet, and my legs, and my arms until I could only feel the intense blazing skin on my forehead, getting hotter and hotter and until I could swear my head was going to burst and then –

"Jesse!"

My world came into focus, slowly ceasing to spin, and I looked upwards to see a broken loop of rope swinging above me, the ends frayed. Was I… alive?

I sat up, and saw that every person in the crowd was staring at me, their lips mumbling phrases of astonishment, the buzz of their confusion giving me a headache. But if I could see, and hear, and… hurt, wasn't I still alive?

"Jesse!"

I was hit by something that came cannonballing into my stomach, something that burst into gunshot sobs as soon as I caught it, and buried itself into my neck. My sister lay quivering in my arms, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as I clutched her to my heart.

"Josefina," I whispered, kissing her temple. "What happened? How did we escape?" Josefina dried her eyes long enough to point to my left. I swivelled to see I was sat at the feet of three familiar figures, each with eyes burning brightly.

"Oh, Jesse," Susannah whimpered, as she fell to her knees to embrace me. I was overwhelmed with emotion, securing her to my body along with Josefina as tight as I could imagine, as Father Dominic and Adam observed with some amusement as we all fought back tears. "Oh, Jesse," Susannah said again, her voice shaking. "I thought I was too late – I thought you were already dead…" She burst into tears, her body convulsing violently as I held her.

"Ssh," I soothed, stroking her hair. How I had missed her hair! I entwined it with my fingers, wrapping single curls around my thumb and massaging her sweet scalp as I buried my face. Her scent was stronger than ever, and it made it hard to believe that I hadn't died and gone to heaven. "You made it, you saved me. I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive…"

"And I am alive," Susannah added, turning to face Adam and Father Dominic. "Thanks to them. They found me soon after I hit my head, and they nursed me back to health. And they found where you had been imprisoned, and came up with the plan to save you."

"But what happened to all the guards…?" I began to ask, but my question was answered as I saw two guards slumped unconscious over one another on the floor only a few yards away. Susannah and Adam looked guilty.

"As a man of the church," Father Dominic explained, "I did not participate in this part of the procedure, but I can assure you Susannah and Adam were very brave." He glanced around worriedly. "But I daresay we shan't be guardless for long, so I suggest we move to a more discreet location…?"

I nodded, and attempted to get to my feet, aided by Susannah and Josefina. I glanced behind me to see that all the other charged criminals had been set free by Susannah and Adam too, their nooses frayed like mine and Josefina's. I saw the tell-tale dagger in Susannah's belt and grinned.

We were led quickly to a Mediator wagon waiting behind the crowd that had gathered at the gallows, and climbed inside to find Cee-Cee serving hot drinks to everyone. She hugged me breathlessly as she saw me, and to my surprise started crying. "Jesse," she said, pulling me close. "You make Susannah so happy. "Thank God you're still alive."

"Thank God indeed," Father Dominic agreed, and I smiled.

The wagon began to move, and Josefina and I settled in a corner with our hot drinks, reacquainting ourselves. "What's next?" my sister asked me, and I had to admit that I didn't know. After the loss of my first family, I had found another. But now with the two in one wagon, I was unsure about what my next move would be.

"Father Dominic is to be the new Mediator leader," Susannah answered, offering me my choices. "And he's asked me to stay. But of course, I'll go wherever you want me to go…"

"Mediating is your passion," I told her, and she blushed. "I couldn't ask you to give that up." I laced her fingers with mine and kissed them. "Of course I'll stay with you and the Mediators." I glanced at Josefina, who remained wordless, sipping her drink. "But there's one thing we need to do first."

* * *

It was nightfall before we reached it. A small, thatched hut on the edge of the town, it had taken Josefina sitting up front with the horses to get us here. The moonlight fell across it, bathing it in silver light, and not even for one second could I picture a more perfect place for my family to live.

"This is it," Josefina whispered, and she hopped down for the wagon, her hot breath steaming before her in the cool night air. Cee-Cee handed me a blanket and I draped it around _mi hermana_'s shoulders. She took my hand and led me down the path, each nervous step of ours echoing on the crunchy gravel.

We knocked – once, twice – on the heavy oak door and waited, my breath held. It did not sound quiet inside, I could hear the hurried voices of both my sisters and my mother. Their familiarity made my heart flutter with excitement. I would be seeing them again, so soon…

"Josefina?" _Mi madre _laid eyes on my sister first, her expression one of utmost astonishment. She swept her into her arms and I watched smiling, so happy that my mother had her daughter back. I wasn't even upset that she had recognised her first. Josefina had been special to all of us. "And who is…?" My mother had now turned her attentions to me, and it was my turn.

"It is me, _Madre_," I whispered, excitedly. "Jesse."

The scream that escaped my mother made even Susannah and Cee-Cee, who were waiting at the end of the path, jump. I was pulled against my mother's skinny frame and drenched in hysterical tears. I cried myself, folding myself against my mother like I had done when I was only a little boy. I felt eight years old again – Josefina's age – as I sobbed heavily; trying to convey all the emotions I had felt in the months we had been apart.

"_Madre_," I whispered, finally releasing her. "There is someone here I would like you to meet." I turned, waving for my wife to join me at the front door. Susannah appeared timidly, bowing her head courteously. "This is my wife, Susannah."

"Your…" My mother surveyed Susannah in surprise, speechless. "_Tu mujer_?" I nodded, and took their hands.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Mrs. De Silva," Susannah said, sweetly. She blushed at her shyness, and I smiled. "I love your son very much."

"I can see that," my mother answered. "And why, I must give you your full title, too. Mrs. De Silva, you are very beautiful." Susannah beamed.

"She is the most beautiful woman I have ever known," I told my mother, truthfully. Susannah glowed, even in the darkness, and my heart swelled with every affection I felt for her. "My only regret is that you two cannot spend every day together…"

"But why?" my mother interrupted, and Father Dominic suddenly appeared at my side, looking pensive.

"You know," he said, even stroking his chin to personify the image of wisdom. "I have been considering for some time, a permanent post for the Mediators." He admired the view of the town from the house, and stroked his chin again. "And I think this town is the perfect place for it."

Susannah gasped. "Father Dominic, it's perfect!"

He smiled. "Yes, my dear," he said. "But not, I believe, as perfect as you are for this young gentleman here." He gestured towards me, and I kissed her hand. "Look after her, Jesse," Father Dominic warned me. "She's more beautiful than you know."

"I do know that, sir," I answered, and Susannah smiled. "I do know."


	14. Epilogue

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this fic from start to finish. I have loved every word of it, and I hope you have too. The ending's a little poetic (gag me) but I hope its kind of fitting. Enjoy the epilogue.**

**Merry Christmas!**

* * *

_Epilogue_

"Let me in, let me in!"

"Oh, _please _can we see it now, Daddy?"

"Out of my _way, _Rosy, I was here _first_!"

The excited squeals of my children from outside the door made me smile as I padded across the room to let them in. The door creaked open slightly, and I pressed my face through the gap, surveying all three of them till they piped down and waited with baited breath, their mouths hanging open in anticipation.

"Are you ready?" I asked, teasingly, and Rosalina jumped up and down on the spot. I pretended to reconsider. "Are you sure?" I asked, and Susannah rolled her eyes as she tended to Christian's running nose. "Peter?" I glanced over to my youngest child, who was still glaring at his sister for pushing him out of the way. "Are you ready to see your playroom?"

"Daddy!" Rosalina cried, impatiently. "We've waited nearly three whole months. Do we have to wait any longer?" I grinned, and eased the door open further.

"Of course not," I answered, and Rosalina, Christian and Peter rushed past me to inspect their new playroom. Susannah got to her feet and wrapped her arms around my waist.

"It's beautiful," she said, her eyes widening at the pink canopy that hung from the ceiling. "Where did you get that from?"

"_Mi madre_'s wedding dress," I confessed, as Rosalina climbed aboard her rocking horse. "If she really loves her grandchildren then she won't mind." Susannah shook her head good-naturedly at me, and kissed my bare shoulder.

"Well, it was well worth the wait," she remarked, as Peter kicked the assembled wooden soldiers with a delighted scream. "The children love it. The best part of the house for them, I'm sure."

"Can you believe that it all came from the money Father Dominic left us?" I asked, and now even I had to marvel at the room the priest had left for the children he had always treated as his own relatives. "It was so generous."

Susannah nodded, her eyes following Christian around the room. The playroom itself was rectangular, stretching across the back of the house so far that the little windows set into the brick looked out across the whole coastline of the bay. The four walls were panelled in deep brown wood, glossy from three days of varnishing done by myself and Adam. Across the north wall were six bookcases, each with a variety of colourful volumes that I knew I'd be the only one to ever touch. In the middle of the room was a wooden track, along which Peter was now pushing a specially carved wooden cart, carved by one of the Mediators close to Father Dominic. Littered across the floor already were various toys from the toy box – dolls packed with straw that had painted faces, a string of beads on a rope – and in the very corner, a portrait of our benefactor.

The Father Dominic in the picture captured him the way I best remembered him – mid-chuckle with his blue eyes sparkling and the gentle wind from the coast tugging at his white hair. He had passed away four months ago, but only after promising me he wouldn't be gone completely. No, he'd promised he'd still pop in to Mediator meetings every now and again.

Suddenly, Susannah gasped at my side, and pointed to the vacant chair by the window. I couldn't see anything – then again, I never could – but I knew that Susannah could see everything. She pressed a hand to her mouth, her brown eyes watering as her lips slid into a sad smile.

"Father Dominic," she whispered, and Rosalina's head turned of automatic accord. Peter glanced too, but after seeing only the empty chair, he soon busied himself with the wooden cart again. Rosalina, however, kept staring.

"She can see him," I murmured into my wife's ear, and Susannah exhaled unsteadily in surprise. "Our Rosy is a mediator."

It made sense; of course, Rosalina had inherited everything else from her mother. She was like my Susannah in miniature – with cascading curls of chestnut resting on her shoulders, and dark curious eyes that were lined with sooty eyelashes. She pursed her lips now, brow furrowing at what she could see in the chair, and she turned to face her mother.

"It's O.K," Susannah urged, and she stepped across the room to take Rosy's hand. "It's Father Dominic, he won't hurt you." I backed away, away from the mother-daughter moment that I knew would be crucial in later life. I smiled at Christian and Peter, who were oblivious to the ghost in the corner. They were my sons, the way Rosalina was Susannah's daughter.

And, I thought, as I stepped out onto the balcony that overlooked the setting sun, this house was mine too. It was only a breath away from my mother's cottage on the edge of town, the way I'd planned it all those years ago, and it got the full impact of the orange sun the way I'd planned it too. It housed my family, those I cared for more than I could say, and I smiled to myself. How perfect my life had turned out.

I watched the sunset wordlessly; the music of my family's excited squealing the score to my scene. I watched as the sun sank slowly, dipping low into the cerulean sea. And I watched as the smoky tendrils of cloud hanging in the sky formed pearly rings around the moon before they finally, finally, faded away.


End file.
